


Lock and Key

by tricia_16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angry Sex, Bookstore Owner Castiel, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Dating, Dubious Consent, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Lifting Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Musician Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Tension, Sexual/Emotional Miscommunications, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Virgin Castiel (Supernatural), idiots to lovers, keeping secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:29:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 144,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22152178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16
Summary: In a world where people get songs stuck in their heads whenever their soulmate is singing out loud, Castiel discovers that being soulmates with an aspiring singer/songwriter can be taxing, to say the least. Finding said soulmate, learning that he's the most attractive human being on the face of the earth, and then not being able to tell him he’s meant for you? It turns out that's even worse.Not having a soulmate is just the icing on the cake on an already crappy life, if you ask Dean. He wants to sell his songs, but he's terrified of singing them himself. He wants to be a mechanic, but he's stuck selling parts, instead. He wants to kiss the ever loving fuck out of Sam's girlfriend's boss, too, but the guy's holding out for his soulmate, whichof coursemeans Dean doesn't even have a shot....right?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 1419
Kudos: 1576
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, beautiful readers! 
> 
> If you’ve read my stories before you’re probably expecting a ton of fluff and smut, and while we’ll get there eventually (because, duh, have you met me?) this one’s going to start off a little rockier than you’ve probably come to expect from me. 
> 
> You might have noticed the “dubious consent” tag. It’s the first time I’ve ever used it. Personally, I don’t think it’s warranted, but a single chapter got some varying comments, so I added it just to be safe. There is a warning ahead of the chapter in question, so please don’t skip the whole story for that one scene. I really think this one is worth reading. 
> 
> Of course, there _will be_ a happy ending, but I look forward to hearing your groans and read your comments about just how stupid our two favourite boys can be!
> 
> With that said... enjoy!

You know when you get a song stuck in your head? That only happens when your soulmate is singing it out loud.

Everybody grows up knowing this. It’s literally what fairy tales are made of. Most people either have a romantic story to tell (“It was my favorite song from the first moment I heard it, and I knew how perfect my soulmate was before I even met him because he started singing it while I was adding it to my playlist!”) or a funny story to tell (“I knew she had to be something really special, because there’s no way I could suffer through another minute of the Backstreet Boys if she wasn’t.”) about their soulmate’s singing habits. 

But Castiel?

_ His _ soulmate is infuriating because he sings songs that don’t exist. 

For as far back as he can remember, almost every song he’s had stuck in his head is a song he can’t track down. He could recite the songs word for word and note for note, Google the lyrics, and fall in love with or learn to hate certain songs depending on the style, but he’s come to the conclusion that these songs cease to exist outside of his soulmate’s brain. 

Which is rather unfortunate, actually, because the music is really something else. His soulmate is extremely talented, always has been since the first time Castiel heard his voice in his head at 18 years old, and he’s only continued to get better. The countless hours his soulmate spends composing, practicing, creating lyrics (and then changing them) have undoubtedly served him well. For his part, Castiel finds himself bursting with pride over this unknown stranger’s talents on a fairly regular basis. He often brags to his friends or family or anybody else who might listen about just how talented his soulmate is, and he’s absolutely certain nobody is a bigger fan of his soulmate’s music than he is.

Just not tonight. 

Because tonight, his soulmate has been singing the same hook (Castiel is familiar enough with his song writing process by now to know exactly why he’s relentlessly singing the same few notes over and over) for the last two hours straight, and Castiel has to wake up for work in four hours and thirty-two minutes.

Not that he’s counting.

Sometimes he can sleep through it. In fact, he can’t even begin to count the amount of times he’s fallen asleep to the soothing sound of his soulmate’s voice. But despite how tired he is and how hard he’s trying to fall asleep right now, it just isn’t happening. 

_ I’m wide, wide open,  
_ _ For you._

This is a song his soulmate comes back to often. It’s true that the lyrics aren’t the most original words his soulmate has ever written, but there’s something about the notes or the pitch tonight that adds a heavy, almost tangible weight to them. There’s so much pain and longing in his voice that it makes it impossible for Castiel to fall asleep. He wants to go to him, to comfort him, to soothe the ache in his heart his soulmate must have in order to be able to create music like this, and yet he can’t because he doesn’t know who he is.

He doesn’t even know his name. 

Regardless of how common it may be, Castiel has always thought that it’s a very unnatural thing to fall in love with someone you’ve never met. Growing up, a part of him hoped that he would be one of the few people who don’t have a predetermined other half waiting to find him. He didn’t like the idea of not being in control of his own emotions, his own destiny. He hated thinking that his entire life could (potentially) already be mapped out for him, knowing that every decision he made would ultimately lead him one step closer to the person he was meant to be with if he had a soulmate waiting for him.

Because, when you think about it, it’s not just the person who’s been chosen for him. It’s every detail of his life. What subjects he excelled in during his high school years (English, Creative writing, American literature, Written and Oral Communication) all determined which post-secondary schools he would be applying to. Getting accepted to the Library Science program at the University of North Texas meant he would be living in Denton. Living in Denton meant falling in love with Denton—the old-fashioned, slow-paced town with its beautiful old buildings, ample green space, many music festivals, and the various outdoor sculptures dotted throughout the town. He loves that there’s always something to look at or something to explore he hasn’t yet, and still, the city somehow manages to exude a homey, community feel that Castiel has never experienced from a location before.

He’s wondered if this is where his soulmate lives, if that’s why this city started to feel like home long before they ever met. Or maybe his soulmate will move here, too, and feel the same way Castiel feels. Maybe the city is what will bring them together. Maybe this is where they’ll finally meet, in some romantically charged moment that will fit the plot of countless romantic comedies with only a few details tweaked.

If hearing his soulmate’s voice in his head for the first time hadn’t been enough to have him falling in love with the man and re-evaluating every negative thought he’s ever had about soulmates (it was), the idea of settling down here with him might have done the trick. He loves his one-bedroom apartment at The Loop, loves the convenience of the location and the amenities that are included (like access to a pool and exercise room), but the truth is, he dreams of living in one of the older homes scattered on the outskirts of town. 

His version of paradise is reading outside on an old porch swing, with the sounds of his soulmate playing the piano or guitar (because he must play something) drifting through the air, creating a symphony along with the crickets and cicadas. He imagines his soulmate tugging him to his feet and spinning him playfully before pulling him against his chest to dance to the quiet humming of the very music that made him fall in love with the man in the first place.

He jolts when he wakes to the sound of his alarm going off and rolls to the side to pick up his phone and turn it off. His dream of dancing on the porch with his soulmate was so vivid he half expects to have the space on his bed next to him occupied, but of course, it’s empty. 

It’s always empty. 

And so he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and swings his feet over the side of the bed. He uses the bathroom and brushes his teeth, and after throwing on a pair of running shorts and a moisture-wicking shirt, he makes his way outside to start his morning run. 

He doesn’t bring an iPod or any other music listening device to keep him company because hearing the city slowly coming alive amid the sound of his feet pounding the pavement is one of the things he likes best about running early in the morning. He listens to birds chirping, watches them fly away as the path carries him too close to them for their comfort, and revels in the breeze on his face and the sun on his skin. 

By the time he’s finished his hour-long run and cool down, he’s covered in sweat, but he’s feeling loose and awake despite the little bit of sleep he was able to get. He’s still thankful that it’s Friday and his day to sleep in is tomorrow, but he goes through the motions of his morning routine, showering, dressing, and fixing his morning bagel and tea nonetheless, and then he leaves for his short walk to work. 

He’s one of the lucky ones who enjoys what he does for a living, so there’s a sense of pride when he unlocks the front door to One Page At A Time, the ancient bookstore he works at. While he always imagined himself working with books, he never imagined himself leaving a library to work at a bookstore. But when one of the library’s regular patrons told him about the owner of One Page At A Time falling ill and needing someone to take over for him, he was curious enough to check the place out.

After poking around the cluttered, somewhat musty-smelling space, he found himself enchanted by the selection, the people sitting in old, worn armchairs who were clearly lost within the pages of good books, and the same _ homey _ feeling that caused him to fall in love with the town. He isn’t sure exactly how it happened, but he wound up in a heated debate with an incredibly eccentric man about the “heroic” (read: jealous, abusive, and obsessive) Severus Snape from the Harry Potter novels. After delivering what they both knew to be the winning argument based on the fact that there was no logical counter-argument to be made, Castiel was shocked when the man offered his hand and introduced himself as Marv, the very owner Castiel had come to scope out. 

The rest, they say, is history. His interview consisted of Marv asking for Castiel’s opinion on several well-known and a few obscure book titles. Before Castiel understood the interview was over, Marv asked his current salary and offered to increase it by ten percent, and Castiel had been working here ever since.

It’s been three years now since Castiel accepted the job, and the cancer in Marv’s lungs has since stopped responding to treatment. No one is certain how much time he has left, but Marv has decided to live out the rest of his life at home in his rocker-recliner, surrounded by his three cats and lost in the pages of his favorite books. While Castiel certainly doesn’t envy Marv the pain he knows he lives with on a daily basis, he can definitely see the appeal in the way he’s chosen to spend the rest of his time.

Shaking off the melancholy direction in which his thoughts have drifted, Castiel begins his day by brewing a new pot of coffee for both himself and his regular early-morning customers. After retrieving the cash drawer from the safe in his office, he places it in its spot in the cash register and starts up the computer to log in to their online system. He’s on his own this morning, and there’s a steady-enough stream of customers in and out to keep him occupied until eleven when his part-time help joins him to cover his lunch hour and help unbox a new shipment of books. Jess is a student enrolled in her final year of the nursing program at UNT. She’s bright and friendly, and while she tends to read more modern literature and best-sellers than classics like he and Marv, her taste in novels complements his and helps to fill a gap of knowledge he’ll likely never have. She seems to be quite popular, and the amount of students who come into the shop has grown exponentially since he hired her. That was a happy coincidence he plans to repeat when the time comes to hire more help for the holidays.

One of the students who visits the bookstore frequently because of Jess is her boyfriend, Sam. Sam is a very tall, very smart young man who is currently in his fourth year at UNT, but he’s set to start another three-year journey of law school after that. Castiel envies his drive, but not the constant workload he seems to have. Sam almost always has his nose buried in a book or his fingers flying over a keyboard, and Castiel has long suspected that the reason he spends so much time at the bookstore is so that he can study and spend time with Jess at the same time.

Like many of the other students in school on a scholarship, Sam buys his school books from Castiel secondhand, so Castiel has no reason to turn away a paying customer... even if he doesn’t necessarily purchase something every (ten) times he stops in. He also happens to like Sam, which is why he’s chosen to sit next to him while he eats his leftover soup and a sandwich for lunch today. 

Sam hardly looks up from the screen, but he somehow manages to catch a glimpse of Castiel. “Hey man, how’s it going?”

“No complaints,” Castiel replies. “It’s been fairly steady so far this morning.”

“That’s good. Jess likes it better when she’s busy.” His fingers stop moving just for a second, and he shoots Cas an apologetic smile. “She likes working here all the time,” he rephrases. “You know what I mean.”

“I did, yes,” Castiel agrees, bringing a spoonful of soup to his mouth. 

“Any big plans for tonight?” Sam asks him next.

Castiel shakes his head. “Not really. I’m kind of a homebody.”

“My brother’s like that too, but we actually convinced him to go to the open mic night over at the Roadhouse tonight. Have you ever been?”

The Roadhouse is a dingy little bar that suits its name just right, but since it’s between his apartment complex and the bookstore, Castiel has been known to stop in on the rare occasion when he craves a cold beer. “I’ve had a few burgers in my day. Surprisingly good.”

“I know, right?” Sam agrees. “Hey, you should join us if you don’t have anything better to do.”

He’s surprised by the offer, but pleasantly so. Most of the friends he made in school moved away to pursue their own careers, so there aren’t many people left in town he’s friendly with. “Really?” he asks. “It wouldn’t be weird since I’m technically Jess’s boss?”

The corners of Sam’s mouth turn down while he seems to consider it. “I don’t see why it would. I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the get-fall-down-drunk kinda guy, and other than that kinda behavior, I don’t know why it would be weird.”

“I am definitely not that kind of guy, no,” Castiel laughs. “What time are you going?”

“Dean’s slot is at 10:40, but we’ll probably show up an hour or so before to try to get some good seats.”

Castiel huffs out an amused breath. “I’m usually in bed by ten.”

Sam laughs knowingly. “You and me both. But just between us, Dean needs all the support he can get.”

“Is he not very good?” Castiel wonders.

“No, he’s great. Really good, actually. He’s just got a bit of a thing about singing in front of other people.”

“Seems like open mic night is an odd choice, then.”

Sam laughs again and leans back in his chair, finally giving Castiel his full attention for the first time since they started talking. “That’s why me and Jess had to convince him to go. His dream is to be a song-writer, but the only way to sell your songs is to get them heard, and the best way to get them heard is to sing them yourself.”

Castiel frowns as something niggles in his memory. “I feel like I’ve heard this before. Isn’t that the plot of a book or something?”

“A movie. Coyote Ugly,” Jess says, coming up behind them with a smile on her face. “To the disappointment of many, Dean’s not about to show up in a crop top, but apparently the music part is accurate. Though I gotta say, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a romantic comedy kinda guy, boss.”

“I must have just caught part of it on TV or something,” he replies, his traitorous cheeks heating up because of the white lie.

“Uh huh,” Jess says sarcastically. She turns her smile in Sam’s direction and says, “He and Dean will be like two peas in a pod.”

“My brother lies about liking romcoms, too,” Sam tells him, failing miserably at hiding a grin.

“Oh ha ha,” Castiel says dryly, making them both laugh. 

“See Castiel, you made Sam look away from his computer _ and _ laugh, you should definitely come out with us tonight,” Jess tries.

Knowing this is the best offer of friendship he’s had in months makes it hard to turn them down altogether. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll take _ that _ as a win,” Jess says brightly. He notices that she gives Sam’s shoulder a little squeeze before she walks away again, which is why he catches the fond look in her eye when she turns back. “And Sam? Cut it out with _ The Final Countdown, _ already.”

“It’s motivating!” Sam defends. 

Castiel realizes with an unpleasant sinking sensation in his stomach that the two of them must be soulmates. He takes a bite of his sandwich to try to help him swallow down the bitter taste in his mouth. It’s unusual not to find one’s soulmate by the age of 27 like him, and as much as he takes comfort in the knowledge that there _ is _ a perfect man out there for him somewhere, sometimes it’s excruciatingly hard to be alone.

There’s no rule or anything saying that he can’t go out and date other people, but ever since the first time he heard his soulmate’s songs in his head and he became a real, tangible person instead of a “what if”, he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s never been able to understand the point of dating somebody, getting to know them, and becoming fond of them all while knowing there’s somebody else out there better suited for him. People have pointed out over the years that he could still hook up with the willing without getting attached, but he didn’t like the idea of that either.

All he wants is his soulmate, and he’s determined to wait for him... even if it does mean he occasionally gets jealous or wistful or downright sad about the fact that he hasn’t found him yet.

“You okay?” Sam asks.

Castiel nods but knows he won’t be able to brush this off entirely until he finds out for sure. “You’re soulmates?” 

Sam’s smile spreads seemingly without thought. “Yeah.”

“Congratulations.” He knows his answering smile is more wobbly than he’d like, so he follows up with, “I have one, too. Just haven’t met him yet.”

“That must be hard,” Sam comments.

“At times.”

“Well, no matter how long it takes to find each other, I can guarantee you that it’ll be worth it in the end.”

The confirmation from somebody who has a soulmate themselves is enough to have him perking up slightly. “Thanks for saying that.” A moment of camaraderie passes between them, buoying him, until Castiel gestures to Sam’s laptop. “I should let you get back to work so I can eat my lunch before my hour is up.”

Sam’s eyes go a little wide in what he assumes is apology, but he nods his consent. “Of course. Didn’t mean to take you away from your lunch.”

“It was a nice little chat,” Castiel assures him. 

He tucks into the rest of his meal in a comfortable silence, enjoying the quiet companionship he feels sitting here with Sam, already knowing he’d be a fool to turn down more company later tonight.

Sure enough, by the time 9:30 comes around, Castiel is freshly showered, dressed, and ready to go. Knowing what kind of place The Roadhouse is means he knew in advance he wasn’t supposed to dress up, so he’s in a simple sky blue t-shirt and a navy blue zip-up hoodie over it adorned with a small embroidered gay pride flag on the left breast. He finishes off the casual look with a broken-in pair of jeans and his black slip-on Vans, and if it wasn’t for the almost constant repeating loop of music in his head, he would be comfortable _ and _ ready to go. 

His soulmate has been singing the same song off and on for the last two hours. It’s a song he’s heard him sing before and he isn’t changing any of the words, so Castiel knows he isn’t tweaking or anything, but he doesn’t understand why he’s so focused on it. This isn’t the first time his soulmate has done this, but it’s been long enough that he forgot how unsettling it is. 

A real sense of unease has settled low in his stomach, and honestly, it’s a contributing factor to him going out tonight because the longer he sits here thinking about his soulmate and wondering why he’s being so... obsessive... the last few days, the more worried he becomes.

Maybe a few drinks will help him to relax, but in the meantime, he has his soulmate’s words filling his mind as he walks over to The Roadhouse. 

_ Woke up without you next to me,  
_ _ The same way I do every single day.  
_ _ After coffee, my first thought is always you,__  
_ _ Wondering if today’ll be our big debut._

_ Will it be at the coffee shop?  
_ _ Will we bump and spill and—gasp—know?   
_ _ Are you gonna beat me to the last slice?  
_ _ ‘cause I gotta tell ya, that one might cut like a knife. _

_ I don’t know how it feels to see you smile,  
_ _ Or the different ways to make your eyes light up.  
_ _ I don’t know what makes you sad,  
_ _ Or how to turn that frown upside down.   
_ _ I don’t know what that laugh might sound like,  
_ _ Or if you live far away or nearby.  
_ _ The one and only crazy thing I know for sure,  
_ _ Is that I already love you more than pie._

As catchy as the tune is, it’s the lyrics that really make this one. Apparently, his soulmate has an excellent sense of humor. Each verse goes through different places his soulmate might meet him, and each chorus lists all the things his soulmate doesn’t know about him, but it still somehow manages to logically circle back to how he knows he already loves him more than pie. The lyrics to this song change often, but the chorus stays the same. Knowing that this song is written about him—even if his soulmate doesn’t know who he is yet—makes him warm inside despite the way his soulmate is still singing it on repeat by the time he arrives at The Roadhouse.

Once he steps inside, he looks towards the stage where he assumes Sam and Jess will be sitting since they were arriving early. Sure enough, he spots them at the booth closest to the stage, and he makes his way over there. As he gets closer, he notices there’s another man sitting with them, and he realizes this must be Sam’s brother. 

Sam and his brother both have their backs to him, but when Jess spots him and says, “Castiel!” both men turn towards him and Castiel nearly trips over his own feet.

It seems Sam Winchester has the single most attractive man on the face of the planet as his brother. 

It’s been so long since he looked at someone and instantly felt an attraction that he’s quite literally struck stupid. He stops in his tracks, his lips parted and his heart racing as he drinks in the gorgeous combination of bright green eyes, full, almost feminine-looking lips, and a jaw so sharp it could cut glass. His brain only just comes back online in time to notice that the other man is staring at him in a similar fashion before Jess’s laugh breaks the spell.

“You gonna stand there all night?” she asks. “I promise I won’t bite.”

“Right, sorry,” Castiel says, dropping his eyes to his shoes for a moment to attempt to steady himself. He lifts them again, taking care to bypass the green-eyed man in favor of smiling at Jess. “Is that seat taken?” he asks, gesturing to the open spot next to her.

“No, of course not! We were saving it for you.”

“Come on, man, take a load off,” Sam tells him.

Feeling overly warm now with three pairs of eyes on him, he unzips his hoodie and slides gingerly into the seat next to Jess. “Thanks for saving me a seat.”

“Happy to,” Sam says. “Castiel, this is my brother, Dean. Dean, this is Jess’s boss and a friend of ours, Castiel.”

“Hey,” Dean says with a little nod.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says back, instantly hating himself for the formal greeting. _ Hello, Dean. _ Who talks like that? He’s barely been here for five seconds and he’s already made an ass out of himself.

“I like your pride pin,” Dean says, flashing him half a smile that’s still so enticing Castiel wouldn’t be surprised in the least if his throat closed up and he stopped breathing altogether.

“It’s—uh—embroidered, actually. Right on the sweater. Not a pin. Needlework. That’s... what... embroidered means.”

Dean’s smile turns into something softer, almost teasing, and as Castiel’s face heats up with what he’s sure is a very telling blush, he sends a desperate plea out into the universe for the floor to open up and swallow him whole right here and now.

“You sound like you could use a drink,” Sam says, a teasing lilt to his voice as well.

“You think?” Castiel says sarcastically, and everybody laughs, including Dean.

“What’s your poison?” Dean asks.

_ You. _ “Heineken.” 

Dean nods once. “I’ll get it for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he says quickly.

Dean’s already moving out of the booth. “Don’t worry about it. It’s something to keep me busy while I’m trying not to barf my guts out.” 

The self-deprecating sense of humor from a man that gorgeous is endearing, so he musters up his remaining courage and attempts to offer a wobbly smile when Dean _ winks at him _ and his whole body catches on fire.

“Wish you would’ve gotten here sooner,” Sam says to Castiel.

He blinks and realizes he’s already lost Dean in the crowd at the bar. And _ oh. _ He must not be on fire after all. 

“Why’s that?” he manages to ask.

“Dean finally shut up for two seconds,” Jess answers with a fond roll of her eyes. Then she lowers her voice and asks, “Did I detect some sparks between you two?”

“What?” he asks, not totally pulling off a cool and collected response the way he wishes he could. “I barely said two words to him.”

“You also almost swallowed your tongue when you saw him,” Jess says knowingly. “Unless you were looking at Sam like that?”

Not wanting Jess to think he’s attracted to Sam, he quickly responds, “No! Of course not!”

“Gee thanks,” Sam says dryly, and Castiel flushes all over again. 

Completely giving up, he slumps forward and buries his head in his arms on the table. “I quit,” he calls out pathetically. 

He hears Sam and Jess both laugh a little, and Jess gives his shoulder a ressauring, friendly little pat. “Okay, we’ll take it easy on you.”

He lifts his head only far enough so that he can peek up at her. “You will?”

“We will. Look, Dean’s coming back already with your beer.”

He sits all the way up as he catches a glimpse of Dean, who does in fact have a beer in each hand. As he approaches the table, Castiel pulls his wallet out of his pocket. Dean waves him away before he even offers. “I got it,” Dean says, sliding his beer across the table to him.

“You delivered it, the least I can do is pay you back,” Castiel tries.

“Nope. Not every day I see a guy more nervous than me at open mic night,” Dean says with a shrug.

Castiel glances over at Jess helplessly. He looks _ that _nervous? “This is going well.”

“You’re fine,” she assures him. “Drink up.”

Since the chances are good he’ll embarrass himself less by drinking than he has by talking so far, Castiel decides to take her advice and lifts his glass to his mouth. It’s cold and delicious, and he knows just from the first taste that tonight is going to be one of those nights where the beer goes down nice and smooth. He’s nodding his head to himself while he places his beer back on the table, which is when he notices Dean watching him with a twinkle in his eye.

“Better?” Dean asks.

“Surprisingly, yes.”

“Good,” Dean says simply. “So what’d my moose of a brother have to do to convince a nice guy like you to come see the trainwreck tonight?”

“He just asked.” He wraps his fingers around the glass, thinking carefully about what to say next so he doesn’t accidentally explain that tables are made out of wood or something equally disastrous as the embroidery fiasco. “A lot of my friends have moved out of town or settled down recently, so since I liked Jess enough to hire her and enjoy talking with Sam when I see him, I thought this might be fun.” He wets his lips when he realizes he’s chewing on his bottom one, and adds, “What did they have to do to convince you?”

Dean’s attention didn’t flicker away from his face for a single heartbeat while he was talking, and Castiel finds his cheeks warming up under his intense stare. 

“I just bribed him with his favorite dessert,” Jess answers. 

Dean’s face cracks on a grin at her response, but he still doesn’t look away from Castiel. “And as good as it smelled before we left, I’m already pretty sure I made the wrong call.”

“Why’s that?” Castiel wonders.

“I—” Something flickers in Dean's eyes, and when he starts again, Castiel is surprised by the open honesty he can see staring back at him. “I fuckin’ love music, man.” Sam nods in agreement beside Dean, and Dean continues, “I’d live and breathe it if I could. Hell, half the time I feel like it’s in me, a part of me, you know? And if I didn’t let it out, sometimes I think I might drown in it.” The more he speaks, the more Castiel realizes Dean’s low, smooth voice is oddly soothing. “Only problem is, crowds kinda scare the shit outta me.”

Castiel glances around at all the people in the rather full bar. “I can understand why you might be regretting your decision, then.”

“But he’s _ so _good!” Jess says before Dean can respond again. Her voice pulls him away from Dean’s green-eyed gaze, and he takes another drink of his beer while his brain feels less muddled than it did a moment ago. “Just wait ‘til you hear him. Everybody in here’s gonna be on their feet by the time you’re done, Dean.”

“Probably running for the nearest bathroom ‘cause I blew chunks on ‘em,” Dean says darkly, and Castiel’s lips quirk at the joke. He feels a prickle on his skin and knows Dean’s eyes are back on him before he looks across the table again. “Have we met before?”

Castiel’s taken aback by the question. “No,” he says, absolutely certain. “I’m sure I’d remember you.”

“Just got one of those faces?” Dean teases, his lips curving up at the corners. 

Castiel feels heat crawl down his neck and all the way to his chest, but before he can even attempt to come up with a response to that, Sam snorts. “Yeah, an ugly one.”

“Must run in the family,” Dean says back, and Sam’s mouth pulls tight as he huffs through it.

“Real original. Never heard that one before.”

It brings him a strange sense of comfort to hear the two of them bickering, possibly because it means Dean’s attention finally isn’t 100% on him. He doesn’t necessarily mind, he just finds the other man’s gaze heavy. Loaded. Kind of like the air between them.

Everybody looks over to the stage when a stern-looking woman steps up to the microphone.

“Alright, alright. Everybody hold your horses, now. Next up, we’ve got my sweet little baby girl—”

“MOM!”

There’s a round of laughter as who must be this woman’s daughter yells at her from off the stage. “—Joanna Beth singin’ that Taylor Swift song that’s on the radio every damn time you turn it on. Give it up for Jo!”

Jo, a tall, thin blonde wearing ripped jeans and the same kind of flannel shirt Dean has on, walks onto the stage and gives her mom a good-natured push. 

“Sing Love Story!” Jess heckles, nearly scaring the life out of him, and Jo snorts a laugh before she flips the bird in Jess’s direction.

When the music starts up, it’s hard and loud, and though he probably couldn’t name another Taylor Swift song if somebody offered to pay him for it, this is definitely not the kind of music he expected her to sing. 

“You Oughta Know,” Jess says quietly. “Classic.”

_ “I want you to know that I am happy for you.   
_ _ I wish nothing but the best for you both.  
_ _ An older version of me,  
_ _ Is she perverted like me? _ _  
_ _ Would she go down on you in a theater?” _

Castiel raises his eyebrows in surprise at the lyrics, and damn his brain for immediately thinking of Dean and his plump, full lips in that exact moment. His eyes flick over to Dean before he can stop himself, only to find Dean looking straight back at him with a smirk spread so sexily on those very lips he’s certain his body just caught on fire for the second time tonight. His responding quick intake of breath is probably obvious as hell and Castiel wants to die all over again, but then Dean waggles his eyebrows at him in a playful way that makes him exhale through a quiet chuckle.

What an interesting man.

Unfairly attractive, though.

He’s careful to keep his eyes to himself as he listens to Jo sing the rest of her song, and by the time she’s finished, so is more than half of his beer, and he stands to clap along with everybody else at his table. 

Once the stage is cleared again, Jess says, “That was amazing!”

“She killed it,” Sam agrees.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t Taylor Swift?” Castiel asks.

Dean snorts a laugh. “Jo wouldn’t know a Taylor Swift song if it knocked her upside the head.”

“Jo and I have that in common,” Castiel responds.

Dean looks at him with surprise. “Not a music lover?”

Instantly thinking of his soulmate, he replies, “I don’t listen to much, but I’m actually a big fan of a small selection of music.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Dean questions.

“You won’t know it.”

“Try me,” Dean goads him.

“It’s not re—”

“Hey guys!” Castiel looks over in surprise to see the blonde woman who was on stage a minute ago pushing Dean over so she can sit next to him. “What’d you think?”

“You’ve done better,” Dean deadpans. Castiel’s jaw drops in horror at such a rude comment, but Jo punches Dean’s bicep hard enough that he winces and then grabs his beer right out of his hand to take a swig.

“Oh! Hey new guy,” Jo says once she gives Dean his beer back.

“This is my boss, Castiel,” Jess says. “Castiel, this is Jo. Her mom, Ellen, owns this bar.”

“Nice to meet you,” Castiel says. “I thought you were great.”

“Thanks,” Jo answers with a nod.

“Wouldn’t take that to heart if I was you,” Dean says next, his eyes slowly sliding back to Castiel. “He didn’t even know it wasn’t a Taylor Swift song ‘til I told him.”

“And you _ would _ know all of her songs, Swiftie,” Jo retorts. 

Castiel raises his eyebrows questioningly. “She’s an incredible song-writer,” Dean defends. “Plus—don’t hit me again—but she’s hot now. Must’ve gotten implants or something, don’t you think?”

“Or a really good push-up bra,” Jo agrees, snagging his beer for another sip.

As the easy intimacy between them becomes more obvious, Castiel realizes this must be Dean’s girlfriend. He’s never been so comfortable around anybody as these two obviously are with each other, and combined with how close they’re sitting, how Dean instantly made room for Jo and how she’s drinking out of Dean’s glass without a complaint from Dean, he’s more sure of it than ever.

“You’d know all about that, Itty Bitty Tittie Comittee,” Dean says. Jo gives him a sharp look before swiping his glass of beer entirely.

Castiel frowns before he can stop it. What an odd comment to say to somebody you’re dating. “Don’t pay any attention to them,” Jess says. “I swear, the way they bicker is worse than an old married couple.”

Doing his best to act like he isn’t weirdly jealous by the idea of Jo and Dean as an item, Castiel asks, “How long have you been together?”

Jo covers her mouth as if she’s at risk for spitting out the mouthful of beer she currently has, and Sam and Dean both start laughing loudly like Castiel just made the funniest joke of his life. Jess is at least trying to stifle her giggle, but her shaking shoulders give her away. 

She’s the first to fill him in, though. “Sorry, Castiel. These two drive each other up the wall, but not like _ that.” _

“I see,” he responds, though really, he’s trying desperately to get that mental image out of his head.

“She’s like the annoying little sister I never had,” Dean says, still talking through his laughter. 

“Even _ thinking _ about being with him like that gives me the heebie jeebies,” Jo remarks, exaggerating with a full body shudder that has Dean taking his beer back from her.

He’s not really sure what he’s meant to say, so he just apologizes. “Sorry. I could tell you were close, so I just assumed.”

“Haven’t laughed that hard in years,” Jo says, still smiling wide. 

“It’s even funnier since Dean doesn’t date,” Sam pipes up with.

“I find that hard to believe.” The words escape him before his filter could kick in to keep that as a thought instead of a sentence, and when a satisfied smile appears on Dean’s face, he drops his gaze to stare at the beer glass in his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night and my brain doesn’t seem to be functioning all that well because of it.”

He feels a solid tap against his foot under the table that draws his eyes straight to Dean. Dean’s giving him a fond smile when he says, “That’s what you’re goin’ with?”

“Dean, leave him alone. It happens to the best of us, Castiel,” Sam says. 

Jess lets out a quiet little laugh. “I could write a book about all the stupid stuff Sam’s said after staying up too late studying.”

“Please don’t,” Sam replies, aiming a sad look in her direction that looks remarkably like a puppy dog. Maybe it’s the floppy hair.

“Hey, aren’t you up next?” Jo asks Dean. “How come you’re not dry heaving into a urinal yet?”

He’s pretty sure he can actually see some of the color drain out of Dean’s face. 

“Thanks for reminding him,” Jess says sarcastically.

“Guess the company was distracting enough,” Dean says, looking straight at Castiel.

“Consider that a standing invitation to every performance of Dean’s from now on,” Sam says, which prompts a small smile from him. He must not be making _ that _ big of an ass of himself. 

“Do you do this often?” Castiel asks Dean.

Dean lifts a single shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I’ve tried plenty of times. Haven’t made it through a whole song yet.”

“Maybe this time will be different,” he offers. “It only takes once, right?”

Dean looks down at the table as he huffs a doubtful laugh. “I need another beer.”

“I’ll get it,” Castiel says immediately. “You got my first one, and I need another soon anyway.”

“I’m comin’ with you, then. I need to get up now that I know the countdown’s on.”

Castiel slides out of the booth and Jo moves out of the way so Dean can get out, too. Now that they’re both standing, Castiel notices for the first time that Dean’s taller than him. Not by much, but he didn’t seem so tall when he was sitting. As he follows Dean towards the bar, he can’t help but take in the way Dean’s legs bow when he walks. For reasons he can’t even explain to himself, he finds it incredibly hot, and between that and the way Dean’s jeans cling to his backside? Well, he’s sure there’s no hope of his blush disappearing any time soon.

Dean stops so abruptly that Castiel walks straight into his back. 

Dean looks over his shoulder with his eyebrows raised in silent question and Castiel lifts his hands to bury his face in them. He’s so embarrassed. He’s _ been _ embarrassed since the moment he got here and there is nothing he wants more than to just run out the door and never look back. But then there’s two hands on his shoulders, and he peeks through his fingers to see Dean looking down at him. 

It’s louder closer to the bar where there’s so many more people, and Dean has to raise his voice accordingly. “You okay?”

Castiel doesn’t really feel like talking right now, but he’s also not about to lie. He settles for shaking his head back and forth.

He’s sure his eyes widen a little bit when Dean steps forward, but then Dean wraps his arm around Castiel’s shoulders and guides him the rest of the way to the bar. Dean finds a spot between all of the other people waiting, and once the woman who was on stage before—Ellen, he thinks Jess said—spots them, Dean lifts two fingers and then twirls one in the air. Another round, maybe? Ellen nods her head in understanding and turns away, presumably to get their beer.

“Won’t be long. Perks of knowing the boss,” Dean explains. Dean’s arm has dropped from his shoulders, and his hand is now placed gently between his shoulder blades. “So do you always embarrass yourself this badly in front of new people, or are we just lucky?”  
  
“Just lucky, if that’s what you want to call it,” Castiel replies, though truthfully, he’d rather talk about anything else.

Dean’s next words surprise him. “I gotta say, it’s kinda workin’ for ya.”

He blinks in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s cute,” Dean explains. “Your big blue eyes are a little too wide, like you don’t know what to expect. You're blushin’ so much your cheeks are nice and pink, and your hair’s fucked six ways from Sunday ‘cause you can’t keep your hands outta it. You’re like a scared little owl or something,” Dean says with a soft laugh.

“...thank you?” Castiel says tentatively.

“You’ve got a good sense of humor, too,” Dean adds. “I’m, uh, kinda gettin’ the feelin’ that it’s me that makes you nervous.” Though it isn’t phrased as a question, Castiel nods the tiniest little bit anyway. He doesn’t particularly want to admit it, but at least this way it’s out in the open. “I figured, with the pride flag and the blushing,” Dean confesses, looking away from him for the first time. Castiel waits with his heart in his throat for Dean’s gaze to return to him. “Sammy was right, you know, about me not dating, so you don’t need to be nervous about that kinda thing. But I figure if you’re Jess’s boss and buddies with Sam, we’re gonna end up hanging out every now and then, so I... I wouldn’t be against the idea of getting to know each other better. If you want.”

“I...” Castiel has to stop to swallow because his mouth is suddenly, painfully, bone dry. Dean said he doesn’t date, but he sounds nervous enough that Castiel isn’t totally sure he isn’t being asked out. “I have a soulmate. I haven’t found him yet.” Dean nods, but something in his eyes instantly becomes less open and more closed off. “Do you... have one?”

He didn’t realize until he asked how badly he wants the answer to be yes. How badly he hopes his soulmate might be Dean. He’s not stupid; it would make sense for his soulmate to be a song-writer. It might also explain why he’s so drawn to Dean, why Dean’s voice is so familiar and comforting despite knowing they’ve never met before.

“Nah,” Dean says quietly, and Castiel has to concentrate hard not to crumble with what feels a lot like heartbreak. Dean’s shoulders slump the tiniest little bit, as well, but he pastes what Castiel knows instinctively is a fake smile on his face. “Sammy’s the lucky one. Got the soulmate, the scholarship, gonna get the fancy job. And he deserves it, don’t get me wrong. He deserves every little bit of it.”

“And you?” Castiel prompts. “You don’t deserve nice things?”

Dean shrugs again, though Castiel notices he doesn’t seem to be able to keep eye contact when he responds. “I’m a simple guy. Gimme some pie, my brother, and a guitar, and that’s enough for me.”

“I’ve known you for less than an hour and not only do I not believe that, I can tell you don’t believe it either.”

Dean smiles shakily. “I’ll work on it.”

“Well, like I said before, I don’t have a lot of friends left in the area. If it’s not a problem for you that half of my brain cells stop working every time I look at you, I would like to be friends.” He has to swallow again because his mouth is still unnaturally dry. “It can be lonely at times. Waiting to find my soulmate.”

Dean’s eyes harden more than he’s seen them so far. “I’ve been a stand-in for a soulmate before. Didn’t work out so well for me.”

“Which is why _ I _don’t date. Friends,” Castiel repeats. “It’s not the same as dating, knowing that somebody will eventually replace you. There’s no reason why we can’t still be friends once I find him.”

Dean looks him in the eye for what feels like a very long time. Castiel maintains eye contact even though it makes him feel warm inside in ways he doesn’t want to acknowledge, and finally, Dean speaks again. “Y’know, there ain’t a single part of me that believes that, and I still can’t make myself say no.”

Knowing that Dean feels something between them the same way he does makes him smile, even if he doesn’t understand it. “It’s weird between us, isn’t it?”

“I always thought if I did have—” But then Dean stops himself with a slight shake of his head and Castiel follows where his gaze is pulled to see Ellen approaching them with their beer. 

“Here ya go, boys. Sorry for the wait, it’s packed tighter than a can of sardines in here tonight.”

“Thanks, Ellen. Just put it on my tab,” Dean says.

“No,” Castiel says firmly. “He bought the last round, I’d like to buy this one.”

Ellen ignores him and tells Dean, “Five minute warning, cowboy.”

“Oh shit,” Dean says quietly, turning back to Castiel with wide eyes. “Can you—can you bring these back to our table? I’m gonna need it when I’m done.”

“I can stay with you until you go on stage,” Castiel offers. “I won’t hold it against you if you’re nervous.”

Dean shakes his head. “I gotta go take a leak so I don’t piss myself on stage, then I need to check my guitar’s still in tune.”

“Okay.” He wishes he could do more, but he doesn’t know what else to offer. “Well, I’ll be cheering for you. And try to remember that no matter how badly it goes, at least you didn’t stumble your way through explaining embroidery to the most attractive man you’ve ever seen like I did tonight.”

“No, I’m just gonna choke on a stage with a hundred people watching in front of the hottest guy _ I’ve _ ever seen,” Dean tosses back.

And when Castiel stands there with his jaw hanging open from shock, Dean laughs loud and unapologetically. Dean gives him a quick pat on the shoulder, and then he disappears down a hallway that Castiel assumes leads to the bathroom, leaving him with two glasses of beer. Ellen has already moved on to the next customer, so he brings their drinks back over to their table. Sam has moved to sit on the same side of the booth as Jess, so he slides in next to Jo.

“Dean got you double fisting already?” Jo asks him with a smirk.

“Uhm, no. He’s about to go on stage, so I’m just hanging onto this until he comes back,” he tells the table in general. “He looked really nervous.”

“Honestly, this is the calmest we’ve ever seen him before a performance,” Sam says. 

“Can’t believe we didn’t think of distracting him earlier,” Jess adds.

“We did!” Sam exclaims. “We’ve tried everything!”

“Didn’t try a tall, blue-eyed brunette though,” Jo points out, sliding her eyes his way. 

Jess looks at him appraisingly, too. “You _ are _ Dean’s type.”

“But that’s not why I invited you here,” Sam says quickly. “I really thought it would just be fun to hang out.”

Castiel believes him. “I’ve embarrassed myself more than I thought I would, but surprisingly, I’m still having an okay time.”

“An okay time,” Jo repeats. “We should put that on the website.”

“You can add wet beer, too,” Castiel jokes, which gets a laugh out of her.

“So eloquent now that Dean’s gone,” she teases.

“I do seem to be in better control of my brain.”

“You guys seemed to hit it off pretty good,” Jess says.

Castiel laughs at the implication. _ “That’s _ what you call hitting it off? I mortified myself! More than once!”

“Yeah, but Jess is still right, though. Dean likes you,” Sam says, smirking slightly. 

Jess’s eyes seem to light up at Sam’s confirmation. “He was totally flirting with him, right?”

“You said he doesn’t date,” Castiel reminds them.

Sam shrugs. “He doesn’t usually flirt, either.”

Jess hums her agreement, Jo is nodding next to him, and it’s not like he’s not _ tempted, _ but...

“I have a soulmate.”

“Yeah, so does Dean,” Jo says flippantly.

Castiel frowns. “Dean told me he doesn’t.”

“Well, I think he does,” Sam says.

“Me, too,” Jess agrees.

Jo chimes in with, “Same. He’s just being a chicken shit ‘cause he hasn’t met them yet.”

“And because he’s hardly ever heard them,” Jess says. “I tried telling him it’s possible that his soulmate isn’t a music fan, or maybe he or she just doesn’t sing very much, but he’s convinced himself he had his shot at love at blew it.”

Hope blooms fast and strong inside of him, and as if just thinking about his soulmate is enough to summon him to his mind, he hears him start to sing.

_ I don’t know how it feels when you smile,  
_ _ Or the different ways to make your eyes light up._

It isn’t until the moment he hears him that he realizes the sound of his soulmate repeating the same lyrics over and over in his head stopped soon after he got to the bar. With a start, he remembers about Jess’s comment soon after he arrived. 

_ “Dean finally shut up for two seconds.” _

It can’t be...?

“Hey, does Dean have a song—”

But of course, that’s exactly when Ellen steps onto the stage. Everybody claps and hollers and she shushes them with a wave of her hands.

“Alright, everybody. Next up is somebody you’ll probably recognize since he’s a regular around here, and I want you to give him a nice Roadhouse welcome, or ya answer to me. He’s singin’ an original song, so please give it up for Dean Winchester!”

Castiel claps harder than he’s ever clapped before, but his heart sinks when he sees just how nervous Dean looks as he steps onto the stage. The confident, easy-going man he spent the evening sitting across from is no more. The lights showcase just how pale Dean is, his face shining with sweat, and because they’re sitting so close to the stage, he can see that the fingers holding his guitar pick are shaking.

“Shit,” Sam says under his breath.

“You got this,” Jo says, loud enough for Dean to hear her.

“Go Dean!” Jess yells. Castiel claps his hands a few more times, and he sees a small smile tilt at the corners of Dean’s mouth. “Say something,” Jess whispers to him.

Castiel says the first thing that comes to mind. “You can do this.”

Because his voice is so low, he doesn’t have to raise it for it to carry. Dean nods, licks his lips, and he starts strumming his guitar.

The chords are steady and sure, and he’s mesmerized by the sight of Dean standing in the lights, playing a song he wrote that’s already got his foot tapping along. It sounds light and fun, and from the little he knows about Dean, he thinks it fits his personality to a tee.

Dean takes a step up to the microphone and opens his mouth as the guitar quiets down. 

_ “Wo-oke up—” _

His voice cracks and he grimaces, taking a step back and starting the intro over again on the guitar. Dean’s looking right at their table like a deer caught in the headlights, so he understands why Sam speaks up again.

“Just try again!” Sam encourages quietly.

“Shake it off,” Jo adds.

“You can do this, Dean,” Castiel says, repeating the same thing he said before. Dean shakes his head, so Castiel lifts the beer he’s holding for him and gives it a little wiggle. _ For when this is all over, _ he thinks, hoping Dean gets it. 

He sees Dean smile shakily, take a deep breath, and return to the microphone.

_ “Woke up without you next to me,  
_ _ The same way I do every single day.  
_ _ After coffee, my first thought is always you,  
_ _ Wondering if today’ll be—” _  
  
The microphone squawks with feedback and Dean loses his nerve. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” Dean mumbles, darting off the stage.

_ He knows that song. _

Sam jumps up and follows Dean barely half a second later, and Castiel watches him go with his heart in his throat and his jaw hanging open as the truth he’s been searching for for the last ten years slams into him like an iron fist to the stomach.

He knows that song because he’s heard it in his head a hundred different times over the last ten years. He’s Googled it at least two dozen times, asked his friends, even sang it aloud a time or two himself when he couldn’t stop thinking about it, and there’s only one possible way Dean knows it, too. Because Dean wrote it. 

Dean is his soulmate.

Dean Winchester. The most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. Sam’s brother, the man who thinks he doesn’t deserve nice things, the man who thinks his soulmate doesn’t exist because he hardly ever hears him.

Hah!

That little tidbit clicks into place as he realizes the few times he _ has _ sung out loud, he was singing Dean’s songs! Dean probably thought he was hearing himself in his head when it was Castiel. After not hearing anything else for such a long time, he can see how Dean might make that assumption and why he believes he doesn’t have a soulmate. 

Although... all of the songs he’s heard Dean sing are about soulmates. About how he’s dying to meet his soulmate, how he’s waiting for him. Unless he isn’t writing them for himself? _ But what if he is? _ What if Dean’s just as lonely waiting for him as he has been waiting for Dean?

He has to tell him. He has to go to Dean and tell him he’s been hearing him singing in his head for a decade, that he’s the most talented person he’s ever heard, that he himself is Dean’s biggest fan and that he believes in Dean more than he believes in anything.

A part of him is incredibly nervous to put himself out there after waiting for it for so long, but they’re _ soulmates. _ Dean will likely be every bit as happy to find him as he is to finally have found Dean. They’re quite literally meant to be, so there’s very little possibility Dean won’t be interested. 

“I’ll be right back,” he croaks.

His voice is hoarse but he doesn’t care. He’s already up and taking off towards where he can see Sam standing at the bar, a half a head taller than everybody else. His heart is beating a mile a minute, his palms are sweaty, and his breath is coming out in short, quick pants, but Dean_—his soulmate—_is right there! 

Sam’s standing with him, facing in Castiel’s direction with Dean’s back to him, but even with all the people, he can make out what Sam is saying well enough. “What you sang was great, Dean. People clapped even when you left the stage early!”

“I sounded like a 12-year-old boy going through puberty,” Dean says bitterly. 

“People liked it!” Sam insists.

“Bullshit. The only person who could _ possibly _ like that fucking trainwreck is my soulmate, if I had one, and only because they wouldn’t have a goddamn choice. I’m done, Sammy. I don’t care how many pies Jess bakes me, I’m not doing this again.” Sam goes to say something else, but Dean speaks again, and this time he doesn’t sound pissed as much as he sounds absolutely broken. “Please don’t ask me to keep trying.”

“Okay, Dean,” Sam says quietly, looking almost as defeated as Dean sounds. That’s the moment Sam sees him, and Sam offers him a weak smile. Dean looks over his shoulder, and Castiel wants to cry when he sees how vulnerable Dean looks.

“Enjoy the show?” Dean says sarcastically. Defensively. Instead of waiting for his response, Dean’s already reaching for a shot and downing it. Castiel steps up to him to see another two glasses upside down and empty, letting him know exactly how Dean plans to deal with his disappointment.

“Well, it ended a little fast for my liking,” Castiel says, and Dean glances over at him again, probably to check if he’s making fun of him. “Do you have any idea how good you look standing there playing guitar like it was... an extension of your body or something? How long have you been playing?”

“A while,” Dean says quietly.

“It showed. I’m actually kind of jealous. I don’t think I can make anything look as effortless as you did playing a guitar,” Castiel tells him. “You’re extremely talented.”

“Not feelin’ so talented at the moment, but thanks, I guess,” Dean replies, and maybe it’s all in his head, but he thinks Dean looks a little less crestfallen now than he did a second ago. “Want a shot?” Dean asks.

He sees the surprised look on Sam’s face and doesn’t miss the tiny nod or the same puppy dog eyes that he aimed at Jess earlier. 

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Castiel asks Dean, choosing not to acknowledge Sam for the time being.

“You know what they say about misery,” Dean says roughly.

Knowing his soulmate is hurting is enough to have him agreeing without another thought. “Looks like I’ll need a few to catch up.”

Dean’s relieved smile is like the sun breaking through _ years _ of rain clouds. “Need another round, Ellen,” Dean calls out. 

“I’ll go get you guys your beer,” Sam offers, clapping them both on the back before he walks away.

He moves in closer to Dean, wracking his brain for something he can do to make Dean feel better. He knows instinctively that right now is not the time to divulge that they’re soulmates. Not after what he heard Dean say about his soulmate being the only one who would like his music. It couldn’t be more obvious that what Dean needs most right now is a boost to his confidence, he just needs to think of what else he can say to give it to him. 

Dean beats him to it, though, with a shy smile and a leading question. “You really think I did okay with the guitar?”

“Absolutely,” Castiel says honestly. “I’ve always thought there was something unfairly hot about a man who can make a guitar sing the way you do.” Dean snorts out a bit of a laugh, so Castiel continues. “And what I heard of the song was catchy, too.”

“Now I know you’re full of it,” Dean says, but he looks like he wants to believe it at least. 

“Honestly,” Castiel promises. “Did you really write it yourself?”

“Yeah.” For a second, he thinks that’s all Dean is going to say, but he goes on after a beat of silence. “Been writing it for years. Just something fun, you know? To make people laugh about how cheesy the whole soulmate thing can be sometimes. I, uh, sing it to myself a lot when I’m doing chores. Been changin’ up the lyrics since I was twelve.”

That might be the cutest thing he’s ever heard. “I liked it a lot.” Knowing that Dean is his soulmate bolsters his own confidence, making him bolder than he’s ever been with a man before. “I know you don’t like crowds, and I can’t exactly blame you after seeing how nervous you were up there, but if you would be willing to play the rest for me some time, I would love to hear it.”

Dean’s smiling for real now, though it’s still a little tentative, like he can’t quite believe it. “Really?”

“Really.” And though it costs him, he adds, “I don’t have any reason to willingly subject myself to bad music if I didn’t like it.”

Dean smiles much more genuinely then, and Castiel knows in this moment that nobody would ever hold a little white lie against him if they knew it prompted a smile _ like that. _

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. How ‘bout you gimme your number, and after you do me a solid and get me hammered enough that I forget all about that shit show on the stage tonight, I invite you over to make up for it? We can get together again to see if I’ve written anything bad enough that it makes you regret your offer.”

Castiel’s smiling brightly when he hands his phone over, feeling sparks shoot up his spine when his fingers brush Dean’s. 

He drinks down his first shot when Ellen places a tray in front of him, telling himself it’s not a big deal to go along with this when he knows how desperately Dean needs it. It’s not like he’s never going to tell Dean about the soulmate thing. He will. He’ll tell him the truth when Dean’s sober. 

Or maybe after he’s heard and praised a few more songs and Dean feels good enough about himself and his music to trust what Castiel says even after he knows who he is. 

As long as he helps Dean with his music and tells him eventually, they’re soulmates, right? He’s sure Dean will understand.


	2. Chapter 2

The dull throbbing in Dean’s head is powerful enough before he’s fully conscious that he knows he’s going to be in a world of pain when he eventually rolls over. 

He lies there without moving for several minutes, slowly working up the courage to open his eyes so he can stumble out of bed before he pisses his pants, but he already knows it’s useless. Sure enough, the second the light peeks in between his squinted eyelids, he groans pitifully as the pain explodes along his forehead and clusters right behind his eyes.

Mistakes were made.

Way too many shots, for one. Getting up on stage at all when he knew it’d be a fucking train wreck, for another thing, and pretty much every damn thing that happened after shot number seven, which is when things start getting a little too blurry around the edges to make good, clear sense out of it.

He doesn’t even remember how he got home. Hopefully Cas made it back to his place okay.

Cas. 

_ Cas throws his head back with his laughter, his laugh low and rich, and Dean’s gaze is pulled to the thick cords of muscle along his newly exposed throat. His fingers itch with how badly he wants to fit them around the nape of Cas’s neck, inching into the hair along the back of his head to hold him in place while he teases him with a dozen soft, chaste little kisses to his skin, just to make him keep smiling. _

His stomach lurches at a scent memory (Cas definitely smelled like alcohol), and just like that, he doesn’t have the luxury of waking up slowly anymore. He ignores the increased pain between his eyes as he runs to the bathroom, and he just makes it onto his knees in front of the toilet before the contents of his stomach are forced out violently. 

That sure as shit didn’t help his head, he thinks miserably a few minutes later. He cringes when he has to hold onto the bowl of the toilet to help him get to his feet, thankful for maybe the first time ever that he lives alone. He rinses his mouth out and then washes his hands, brushes his teeth, and opens the medicine cabinet behind the mirror to grab a couple of painkillers. He downs three with an entire glass of water before he feels well enough to trudge back to his bed, where he pulls his bed sheet straight up over his head to block out the light.

_ So many _ mistakes.

He feels cautiously better when he wakes up the second time. Enough so that his first thought is a predictable, desperate plea for coffee. He gets up slowly, not wanting a repeat of what happened the last time he woke up, and he’s pleased when he makes it all the way into the kitchen without his stomach churning. Sam and Jess bought him a Keurig for Christmas a few years ago, so thanks to them, it’s less than a minute after he presses the button when he has a steaming hot mug of coffee in front of him. He grabs it and walks over to the breakfast bar, which is the closest thing he has to a table in this shitty apartment, taking a load off while he waits a few minutes for the coffee to cool enough not to scald his tongue.

Fuck, he’s tired. He’s too old to drink the way he did last night.

He wonders if Cas is faring any better than he is. His first impression of the dude (other than _ wow) _ was that he looked like he hadn’t stepped foot in a bar in his life, but Cas had sure as hell showed him when they started going shot-for-shot. Dean had been turned on beyond belief just from how cool Cas had looked knocking them back one at a time. Ellen’s shot glasses looked so tiny with Cas’s long, very thick fingers wrapped around them, and because he’s pretty sure he remembers embarrassing the hell out of himself last night, he knows better than to let himself linger on thoughts of how Cas’s pink lips were every bit as enticing as his fingers. 

Looking back, it was probably stupid of him to invite what might be the hottest person he’s ever laid eyes on in real life to get drunk with him, but there was just something about Cas that drew him in. Even before Cas started blowing smoke up his ass about how talented he was, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of him. Probably doesn’t help that Cas is 100% Dean’s type. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes. _ Christ, _ those eyes. If there’s anything worth looking away from the dry, but somehow still tempting pink lips of his, it would be his eyes. He felt like a goddamn Disney Princess because of how easy it was to get lost in them, and that was all before the dude said more than _ hello. _

If he skips over how he choked on stage like a fucking moron (which he’s going to), everything only got better from there. 

After he and Cas got their shots, Sam brought them their beer, and they somehow ended up at a cozy little table in the corner. Just the two of them. The more they drank, the closer they moved to one another, and even though a part of him kept repeating _ there’s a reason you don’t date, there’s a reason you don’t date, there’s a reason you don’t date, _he still wound up waiting on Cas’s side of the table when he came back from the bathroom. 

Cas slid in next to him with an adorably shy little smile he can still see in his head, and he was a fucking goner. Their knees started knocking, and then their thighs were pressed together, and it wasn’t his fault he felt something heat up inside of him every time they touched. It built every time Cas smiled, doubled in size every time he laughed, and, well, he was drunk and Cas is fucking hot, okay? 

Cas was drunk, too, and maybe that had something to do with the way he lifted his hand to touch Dean’s face somewhere around shot number five.

“I never imagined you’d have freckles.”

Dean laughed (because he was drunk, not because it was funny) and asked, “What’d you imagine me for?”

Cas snickered and shook his head as if to clear it. “Doesn’t everybody dream up the most attractive person they can?” Cas placed a finger to his lips like he was about to tell him a secret, leaned in real close, and said, “Don’t tell anybody I told you, but my brain didn’t do you justice. Not even in my wildest dreams.”

And that’s the first time Dean tried to kiss him. 

Instead of leaning in, he grabbed Cas by the front of his t-shirt and pulled him towards him. Cas came almost all the way, close enough that Dean licked his lips and dropped his gaze to Cas’s mouth, but then Cas froze and pulled back.

“Shit, sorry,” Dean mumbled.

He’s pretty sure he wasn’t as embarrassed about it last night as he is now that he’s reliving it, but that’s probably because he doesn’t have alcohol cushioning the blow this time around. He wasn’t so drunk at the time that he doesn’t remember exactly how Cas was looking at him, and even without shots and beer clouding his judgement as he looks back on it, he still maintains he wasn’t making a move on somebody who wasn’t interested. 

Cas said as much himself, with his hand on Dean’s face, stroking his flaming cheek with his thumb. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Dean, it’s just complicated.”

Because of Cas’s soulmate. 

Cas hadn’t said it and he hadn’t asked, but the rejection had still been enough to prompt his mostly drunk brain into thinking the smart thing to do next was to order another tray of shots. Shot number six soothed the burn and put him right back into Cas’s space, and if he remembers correctly, he got a little hard from the way Cas’s hand ended up snaked under his shirts, resting so low on his back he was almost touching his ass crack. 

He’d been pretty damn distracted by Cas’s hand on his bare skin, but he thinks Cas might have been talking about books at the time. Something about finding comfort in them when he was lonely, how he wishes he could understand people as well as he did books, and how he would read a thousand different books about Dean if there were any. 

Things start getting a little hazy around then, but he knows it was his suggestion (and the influence of shot number seven) that made them get up and dance. He only remembers bits and pieces from there on, but he knows from this morning that the memory of Cas’s head thrown back with laughter is vivid enough, and so is dancing with his thigh pressed firmly between Cas’s legs. He thinks he remembers nuzzling into the sweaty hair at Cas’s temple, his hands roaming Cas’s damp but muscular back, Cas’s hands traveling over his chest. He knows Cas smelled like beer and sweat, but there had been a hint of something manly and mouthwatering, too. 

He remembers leaning in again on the dance floor, trying for another kiss, and though he doesn’t remember exactly how Cas dodged him, he has a clear recollection of Cas’s scruff scraping against his cheek and Cas’s breath hot on the side of his neck. 

He can hear Cas’s voice in his head apologizing, telling him he’s _ so _beautiful, and he remembers laughing because his own thoughts weren’t quite so PG. He gets a flash of what Cas looked like near what must’ve been the end of the night—breathing hard, sweaty, and red-faced—and knows he had a whole slew of inappropriate thoughts about exactly what he would do if he had Cas in his bed looking just like that.

Blinking himself out of his memories, he shifts in his seat and realizes his dick is filling out where it’s trapped along the leg of his sleep pants. Clearly, it’s been way too long since he’s been laid. He rolls his eyes at his over-eager dick and takes a tentative sip from his mug, humming happily when he finds it’s not hot enough to burn his tongue anymore. 

He purposely thinks of nothing but his coffee for a little while until his dick calms the hell down, but it isn’t long before his thoughts return to Cas. Castiel. What the hell kind of name is that, anyway? They’d talked a lot last night, but he doesn’t remember getting an explanation for his name. If he hasn’t already sent Cas running for the hills after he tried to kiss him, he’ll have to ask. Actually, now that his head is a little bit more clear, he realizes that he really should check and make sure Cas got home okay. 

He’s startled when he checks the time on the microwave and sees it’s almost noon. No wonder he feels so much better than he did when he first woke up, he damn near slept the day away. He puts his mug back under the Keurig and starts another cup before he heads back to his bedroom in search of his jeans from last night, which is where he assumes his phone is. It only takes one look to see that his jeans aren’t in there, so he checks the bathroom, and then finally finds them right beside his shoes at the front door.

Apparently he dropped trou as soon as he walked in, which is weird enough that he chuckles to himself as he pats down the pockets looking for his phone. 

6 unread messages, 1 missed call, 1 voicemail.

The phone call is from Sam, and he assumes the voicemail is, too. 

He checks that first, and sure enough, it’s his brother. “Hey jerk, just checking in to make sure you’re still alive. Check on Castiel, too, I think he might’ve been more drunk than you were. If I don’t hear from you by lunch, I’m sending in a search party led by Jo.”

Dean makes a face and ends the call, knowing the last thing he wants in here right now is his loud-mouthed friend. He swipes to his texts and sees that several of his unread texts are from Cas, but he answers Sam first since it’s almost noon. He taps out a quick_ I’m alive _ and then flips back to the text convo with Cas.

  
**CASTIEL: **This is all your fault.  
**CASTIEL:** I hope you feel as close to death as I do.  
  
He snorts when he reads them, but his eyes are drawn up to the string of messages above those. Most of them are messages he sent, and as he scrolls back to the top and starts reading his way down, he wishes he had never looked. 

**DEAN:** Where’d you go? The table’s looney without you  
**DEAN:** Lonely   
**CASTIEL:** I told you I had to use the bathroom. Annoying side effect of drinking so much.  
**DEAN:** Better not find your sm in there and ditch me

Jesus fucking christ. He couldn’t sound more pathetic if he was genuinely attempting to. He might as well be holding up a sign with flashing lights that spell out, “I Have Issues With Soulmates.” 

Cas didn’t reply to his desperate text, but that still wasn’t enough to stop him because he texted Cas again less than a half hour later.

**DEAN:** Sry I tried to kiss u  
**DEAN:** but ur really hot  
**CASTIEL:** I wish I could’ve let you  
**DEAN:** Can always try again? 😉  
**CASTIEL:** You’re very tempting, but I don’t want to hurt you  
**DEAN:** Everybody else dies  
**DEAN:** does, dammit

He can only hope he hadn’t been quite so loose-lipped in person, and he can’t decide if he wishes he could remember more of what they talked about or if it’s better he doesn’t know. He’s leaning more towards the latter, especially when he keeps reading.

**DEAN:** I don’t date but I’d date u  
**CASTIEL:** You’re very drunk  
**DEAN: ** You are  
**CASTIEL: ** Thanks to you  
**DEAN:** Come home with me  
**CASTIEL: ** There’s a reason I put you in a Lyft andwalkedhome  
**DEAN: ** Just wanna sleep with u   
**DEAN:** not like that  
**DEAN: ** well ya, like that 2 hahah  
**CASTIEL:** You’re not the only on  
**CASTIEL:** *one, sorry  
**DEAN: ** fuck  
**DEAN:** u=lyft to my place   
**DEAN: ** pls  
**CASTIEL:** I just got home  
**CASTIEL:** Are you home yet?  
**CASTIEL:** Dean?  
**DEAN:** I really want to suk your dock

_ I want to suk your dock? _

What the fuck is the matter with him?

That’s the last message before Cas’s came in this morning, around ten. And apparently, Cas has an iPhone, too, because _ now _he notices the little READ under the messages sent earlier. 

**DEAN:** If it’s possible to die from embarrassment, I think I just did about a dozen times.  
**DEAN:** Fuck, Cas, I am so, so sorry. I swear I’m not some douchey asshole who doesn’t understand no means no.  
**CASTIEL:** The only thing you should be embarrassed about is all of your typos. If you text like that on a regular basis, I don’t think we can be friends.  
**DEAN:** I was completely shitfaced, if that wasn’t already clear  
**CASTIEL:** I got that when I had to show the Lyft driver your driver’s license because you couldn’t remember where you lived  
**DEAN:** shiiiit  
**CASTIEL:** But considering I tried to get into my neighbor’s apartment instead of mine, I don’t think I have much room to judge  
**DEAN:** lol probably shouldn’t drink together in the future  
**CASTIEL:** That should be easy since I’m never drinking again period 🤢

Dean laughs, wondering how long that will last.

**DEAN:** Uh huh. Famous last words  
**CASTIEL:** Well, you are a terrible influence on me

He’s pretty sure Cas is joking, but it’s hard to read tone from a text message, especially when it’s from somebody he doesn’t know all that well.

**DEAN:** I’m seriously really sorry, dude. I didn’t mean to get THAT drunk. I know you’re Jess’s boss so I hope I didn’t make things too weird between all of us?  
**CASTIEL:** Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.   
**CASTIEL: ** I forgot about Jess.   
**CASTIEL: **Was she there all night? Did she see me get that drunk? 

Dean thinks back, trying to figure out the last time he remembers seeing Sam.

**DEAN:** The last time I remember seeing Sam is when he brought our beer to our table. I don’t even remember saying bye before he left. Do you?  
**CASTIEL:** No, I don’t. My memories are pretty clear considering how drunk we got, but I don’t remember seeing them at all

Dean knows why, now that he’s not drunk. He also knows why his do-gooder brother didn’t say shit about him and Cas doing shots together, and why Sam was oh-so-helpful in bringing them their beer. 

Stupid, supportive giant. 

All Dean can do now is hope he didn’t get himself drunk enough to tell Cas his soulmate sob story. That would be way more embarrassing than trying to kiss him. 

**DEAN:** I’ll let you know when Sam texts me back. If he saw everything I remember, he won’t let me live it down anytime soon  
**CASTIEL: ** I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble.  
**DEAN:** Dude, no. It was all me.   
**CASTIEL:** Some of the blame is mine, Dean. I should have tried harder to keep my hands to myself. 

So it wasn’t his drunken brain imaging that Cas seemed just as into him as he was into Cas. Not that that helps anything since Cas isn’t his soulmate.

**DEAN:** Clean slate?  
**CASTIEL:** Works for me. I’d like it if we could be friends.  
**DEAN:** Seriously? Even after last night?  
**CASTIEL:** Without the alcohol, yes. You still owe me a full song.  
**DEAN:** I guess I did agree to that, didn’t I? I’ll let you know when my head stops vibrating.  
**CASTIEL:** I look forward to it 😊

Not wanting to seem too needy after everything he did last night, he lets the conversation die there for now. He goes back to the kitchen to get his coffee, but he leans back against the counter now that he has enough nervous energy to keep him on his feet.

He has no idea what the hell made him agree to play for Cas the first time around, but he’d just gone and done it again. It’s not that he never plays for people—Sam and Jess have heard him, and so has Jo—but that’s usually only the odd time he finishes a song and wants to play it for somebody. 

When he wants to play it for his soulmate and can’t.

_ That _ thought is depressing enough that he takes a long drink of his coffee, secretly hoping it will wash away some of his sadness, too. 

He was such an idiot last night, and in more ways than Cas even knows.

The truth is, he took one look at Cas when he first walked into the bar, locked eyes with the guy, and every damn thing inside of him started screaming, “That’s him! That’s your soulmate!” For the first time in his life, he thought he understood what people meant when they said, “I just _ knew.” _ But as soon as Cas opened his mouth and spoke, he knew it couldn’t be. There’s no way he wouldn’t recognize a deep, rough voice like Cas’s if he’d heard it before. Not that he’s heard his soulmate often or anything (if he ever really heard him at all) but he’s sure what he might have heard didn’t sound a thing like Cas.

Figuring that out right away wasn’t enough to avoid the cluster fuck last night turned into, though. He was still soothed by Castiel’s presence, absolutely gobsmacked by how gorgeous he was, and he was totally charmed by how flustered Cas got every time he tried to talk to him. It was adorable, and it also had him spilling his guts about being nervous on stage and how much he hates crowds. 

That’s why he asked Cas if they’ve met before, because there was just something about Cas that made him feel like he’s known him for a lot longer than one night. Even after Cas assured him they had never met, he still barely made it through one conversation before he started flirting with him. He hasn’t flirted with anybody with any kind of intention behind it since Cassie broke his heart into a million pieces, but last night he couldn’t _ stop _ flirting with Cas.

Maybe it’s a name thing, he thinks to himself with a bitter huff of laughter.

Really, it was stupid to think even for a second that he’d be lucky enough to land a soulmate like Cas. It was like he said last night: he doesn’t get nice things, he gets whatever’s left after everybody else does. He gets his heart broken, this shitty apartment, a terrible case of stage fright, and a dead-end job he only keeps because somebody has to pay the bills. He’s almost thirty years old, and while he’s getting by, there isn’t a damn thing he enjoys about his life except for his music.

And he doesn’t even have the balls to share it, so it’s not like that’s going to get him anywhere.

Now in an absolutely horrible mood, he finishes his second coffee and gets up to start his day. He takes a shower, makes himself some toast to test how his stomach is going to handle food, and then starts a load of laundry. He doesn’t have any plans today, so he spends the day puttering around the house, tidying up, and doing chores. He heats himself up some leftovers for dinner, and later that evening, he finally stops procrastinating and picks up his guitar.

He’s got an itch under his skin and words in his head that are dying to get out, so he strums his guitar absentmindedly, running his fingers over the familiar strings and letting them guide him the way they always do.

It’s the hook he’d been working on the other day that’s bothering him. He’s been working on it for a while and a part of his mind is always looking for the right inspiration, the right words to fill in the blanks where the lyrics should mesh with the music he’s written. Sometimes it takes him weeks or even months to put them together, and sometimes the words come to him so fast he can’t write them down fast enough.

Right now is somewhere in the middle, so he starts the audio recording app up on his phone before he loses his train of thought and the melody entirely. Thankfully, his fingers go right back to the chords they were on a second ago, and he closes his eyes as he thinks through the lyrics in his head. After tweaking a word here or there, he’s ready to sing it to hear it out loud.

_ I know there’s a key made for my lock.  
_ _ Just lift your hand and knock.  
_ _ I’m waiting here to let you in.  
_ _ I’m wide, wide open,  
_ _ For you. _

He sings it through twice, three times, adjusting a note here or there until he thinks the song feels the way he wants it to (the way he currently feels): honest, painful, desperate. 

His fingers keep traveling along the strings, transitioning out of what he knows now is the chorus and into a verse. He doesn’t know how the song starts to wind up at the chorus yet, but he knows where it goes from there. He hums out the notes to add to the music, and once he starts moving into the chorus again, he knows he’s got the music down for the verse, so he hits stop on his recording.

He listens to it with a critical ear, nodding to himself when he knows he got the chorus right this time, and skips forward until he hears himself playing the verse again. He puts that part on repeat and grabs the notebook that’s always on his coffee table, and starts writing down bits and pieces of lyrics that fit the music.

Eventually, after god knows how long of singing it out loud over and over, he’s happy with what he’s got. 

_ I know there’s a key made for my lock.  
_ _ Just lift your hand and knock.  
_ _ I’m waiting here to let you in.  
_ _ I’m wide, wide open,  
_ _ For you. _

_ Another day with just me, myself, and I.  
_ _ These words echo off the walls.  
_ _ The notes bouncing down the hall,  
_ _ Don’t replace the sound of your feet.  
_ _ No racing, no chasing, no laughter so beautifully off-beat._

He lets out a heavy breath at the end, trying and failing to convince himself he wasn’t thinking about any particular laugh when he wrote that line. The ache inside his chest is twice as strong as it was when he was just working on the hook, and he’s succumbed to this feeling enough times in the past to know he needs to get up and do something to shake it off before he finds himself spiraling into the kind of funk it can take days to get out of.

He’s so fucking _ alone _ here. All day, every day, and sometimes it just gets to be too much to handle. 

He places his guitar on the couch next to him and drags a hand down his face, wondering if he should text Sam and Jess to see what they’re up to tonight or if he should go down to the Roadhouse to shoot the shit with Jo over a beer or two. He answers his own question when the thought of alcohol turns his stomach, so he reaches for his phone to see if he can third-wheel it tonight.  
  
Which is when a text comes in from Cas.

**CASTIEL:** Today has been a very long, very boring day.  
**DEAN:** You’re telling me. I was just about to text Sam to see if I could go bug them tonight. You could probably come with if you want?  
**CASTIEL:** Oh. I guess I spent too long working up the nerve to text you again  
**DEAN:** Did you have something else in mind?  
**CASTIEL:** Kind of. I’ve never been one of those people who could go to a movie alone, and I’m dying to see The Rise of Skywalker before somebody spoils it for me.

Dean feels a smile tugging at his lips.

**DEAN:** You asking me to a movie, Cas?  
**CASTIEL:** Well, we said we’d try to be friends, right?  
**DEAN:** I could go for some popcorn. When’s it play?  
**CASTIEL:** 8:20 and 8:50 in 3D. 9:10 not in 3D.

It’s almost 8:00 now, but the theater isn’t far from his place. 

**DEAN:** I’m down for 3D, and I’m ready whenever you are.  
**CASTIEL:** Meet you there in thirty? We can catch the 8:50?  
**DEAN:** See you soon

He figures Cas is probably at least as tired and lazy-feeling as he is today, so he doesn’t bother shaving before he leaves even though he usually stays clean-shaven in public. He switches out of his sweatpants to put on a pair of jeans, though, and throws on an ancient Star Wars t-shirt that’s so worn it has a hole in one of the armpits. He grabs a light canvas jacket on his way out, and ten minutes later, he’s parking his 1967 Chevrolet Impala _ way _ at the back of the lot. 

He strolls into the movie theater lobby right at 8:30, immediately looking to the left where he sees Cas sitting at a small table. Cas gets to his feet as soon as they see each other, and they meet in the space between them. 

Cas is dressed almost the same as last night: a pair of jeans, a grey zip-up hoodie, and he can just see the collar of a black t-shirt underneath. He didn’t shave either, and the five o’clock shadow he was sporting last night is thicker today, but no less appealing. His hair is at least as messy (why does he find that so hot?) and while he doesn’t let his gaze linger as long as he’d like to, he gets a good enough look to remind himself how insanely attracted he is to Cas.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas greets him.

“Hey Cas,” Dean says carefully. “You look almost as tired as I do.”

Cas laughs a little, but surprises him with his dry response. “I hate when people say that. It’s just a polite way to say you look like shit.”

“So not what I meant, but I’ll remember that in case you say it to me some other time.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Cas says, quietly enough Dean wonders if he was meant to hear it. Then, sounding more upbeat, “I believe you mentioned popcorn?”

“It ain’t a movie without popcorn,” Dean tells him. With that, they both start walking towards the line up for food, Dean being careful to keep the appropriate amount of space between them so Cas doesn’t think he’s a sober douchebag, too. There’s a handful of people in front of them in line, so to break the silence, he says, “Full disclosure, but I, uh, already saw this once.”

“You did?” Cas asks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, me and Sammy came opening night. It’s awesome.”

“We don’t have to see it again if you don’t want to. We can see something else,” Cas offers.

“I thought you were dying to see this?”

Cas shrugs. “I am, but I can wait if you’d rather not pay an obscene amount of money to see the same movie twice.”

“Pretty sure I’ve seen every Star Wars movie in the theater at least twice,” Dean admits. “I’m kind of a movie nerd.” Cas’s smile flashes suspiciously wide before he drops his head to stare down at his shoes. It looks like he’s trying to fight back a smile, and Dean’s nosy enough that he asks why. “What? What’s so funny?”

“It’s nothing,” Cas says, lifting his head and smiling at him fondly. “You just obviously don’t remember telling me all about your love for slasher flicks last night.”

Dean feels his cheeks heat up because nope, he definitely doesn’t remember that. “Yep, big ole blank there,” Dean confesses, laughing nervously. 

Cas steps a little closer and lowers his voice to a whisper. “You also blabbed about your love for Doctor Sexy MD and Christmas movies.”

Dean closes his eyes briefly, muttering a quiet, “Fuck my life.”

But he hears a low, rumbling laugh that’s close enough to a giggle that it makes him look over. That’s when he sees Cas smiling so big he can see a strip of pink where his gums are exposed above his teeth, and Cas is so fucking cute that he can almost feel his heart pull a Grinch and grow three sizes. 

_ Friends, _ he reminds himself.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” Dean asks.

“I was trying to be nice!” Cas defends. “Would you rather not know what you told me last night?”

“After seeing those text messages, that might not be a bad idea.”

“I’m actually really curious about why you thought I had a boat?” Cas asks, sounding completely serious. 

_Why the fuck would he think I think he has a boat?_ Dean wonders. It only takes a few seconds of thinking back through the texts he sent to land on the typo about Cas’s _dock. _Once he figures it out, he shoots a sharp glare at Cas until Cas’s face cracks on another smile, and dammit, he feels his own answering smile before he can try to stop it. 

“Fuck you,” Dean says lightly, which only makes Cas laugh harder and look more adorable. 

“I’m done, I’m done,” Cas says quickly. “I swear I’m done.”

“And to think I was gonna let you share my popcorn,” Dean says snootily, purposely looking away from him.

“Oh come on,” Cas complains. “Nobody can eat one of those giant bags by themselves anyway.”

“Shoulda thought about that before you were a dick.”

“Wow, you’re a lot more strict when you’re not drunk,” Cas teases, and once again, he’s unable to maintain a straight face. 

“And you’re a bit of a smart ass when you’re not stumbling over every other word,” Dean shoots back.

“What can I say? This is already much better than sitting at home.”

“Even without popcorn?”

“This could be a defining moment in our friendship, you know,” Cas tells him. “You should think about that before you make a hasty decision.” 

There’s a playful tone to Cas’s voice that he likes a lot. He wants to hear a lot more of it, and he’s thinking about what he could say to keep it going when it’s finally their turn to order. 

They step up to the counter, and Dean orders the combo that comes with one bag of popcorn and two drinks, looking over at Cas when the kid working asks what the second drink will be. 

“Another Coke is fine,” Cas tells the kid. Then to Dean, more softly, “Thank you, Dean.”

“Do you already have your tickets?” the kid asks next.

“No, two for Star Wars,” Dean answers.

_ “One _ for Star Wars,” Cas corrects. “I’ll get my own ticket.”

“Sorry man, you snooze you lose,” Dean laughs. “I’ll get ‘em both,” he says more firmly to the kid. Cas remains quiet until they grab straws and napkins on the way in. Since his hands are full with the bag of popcorn and one of the drinks, he asks Cas, “Can you grab the tickets and hand ‘em off?”

Cas takes them from where they were held between his fingers and passes them to the guy taking the tickets, and only when they’re walking down the hallway does he finally speak.

“I really could have gotten my own ticket,” Cas says again. “I didn’t invite you here to pay for me.”

Dean’s slightly taken aback by the comment. He thought they’d moved past that. “I know,” he says carefully. “Just thought it was the least I could do after last night.”

“I might not have enjoyed the hangover, but other than that, last night was probably the most fun I’ve had in years,” Cas comments. “If anything, I owe _ you _for the beer and all the shots.”

“What I remember was fun, too. Gonna be awhile before I party that hard again, though,” he chuckles. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Did you used to drink like that more often when you were younger?” Cas asks.

Dean shrugs a shoulder, though honestly, it’s not something he’s dying to talk about. “There was a time, yeah. Not my finest year.” He takes a chance and asks, “Didn’t pour my heart out about that last night, did I?”

“Hard to say since I’m not exactly sure what you’re referring to, but I don’t think so. Most of what we talked about was pretty lighthearted.”

“That’s gotta be a first for me after an open mic night.”  
  
They walk into the theater and Cas leads the way until he stops about halfway up the stairs. “Here?”

Dean only hesitates a second before he asks, “Higher okay?”

“You’re one of the cool guys who sits at the very back, aren’t you?”

“Habit ever since I brought my first girl to the movies when I was 14,” Dean tells him as Cas continues climbing the stairs in front of him. He completely misses what Cas says in response because he’s too busy ogling a very round, very firm looking ass. He doesn’t notice until he feels Cas’s eyes on him, looks up, and sees him looking at him expectantly. “Sorry, what?”

“I said I’ve never understood the appeal of the back row,” Cas repeats, moving into the empty seats in the middle of the row. 

“Nobody can see you making out in the back,” Dean explains.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Cas replies.

“Like you’ve never necked in the back of an empty movie theater?”

“Never,” Cas says easily. 

He waits for them both to settle into their seats before he catches Cas’s eye with a flirty smile and says, “I find that hard to believe.” 

He can tell Cas knows he’s making fun of him for last night when Cas rolls his eyes playfully and takes a drink from his soda. “Well believe it. I’ve only been on a handful of dates and I always found them incredibly awkward, so we never made it to the ‘goodnight kiss’ portion of the evening.”

“Okay, that sucks. But it’s not like you can’t kiss without a date,” Dean points out. 

“Which kind of defeats the purpose of waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“My soulmate,” Cas says simply. 

Waiting for his soulmate? “To kiss?” When Cas just nods his head, Dean sits up straighter in his chair and leans in closer so they aren’t overheard. “You’ve _ never _ kissed anybody?”

Cas flushes and looks down at his lap. “Do you have to make it sound like I’m some kind of freak?”

“Sorry, man, that’s not what I was thinking at all. It’s just—you’re freaking _ hot. _ How have you never kissed anybody?”

“I guess you were too drunk to remember, but you’ve actually had more experience with how I say no than anybody,” Cas says, lifting his head enough to offer up a shy smile.

Dean laughs at his own stupid question, forgetting for the moment that he tried to kiss Cas more than once, and asks the next burning question in his head. “So if you’ve never kissed anybody, does that mean you’re... a virgin?”

Cas doesn’t look away this time, but his expression is carefully closed off. “What do you think?”

He knew before he asked, but the confirmation still hits him like a wave of heat. He never would’ve thought it in a million years, but it’s incredibly hot to know that Cas has never been kissed, never been touched, has no fucking clue just how good sex can be. Just the thought of sharing everything with him—his first kiss, first time, first _blow job._ Cas is gonna think his one and only hung the fucking moon.

After several long seconds of very heated eye contact, he feels like water gets dumped over his head when he realizes Cas waiting for his soulmate means he’ll literally never get the chance to touch or kiss Cas. Which is fine, he reminds himself, since they’re only friends anyway.

He swallows down the massive disappointment he’s trying not to feel, and says, “Well, your soulmate’s one lucky son of a bitch, if you didn’t already know.”

Cas huffs out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I’m really looking forward to reliving _ this _ reaction.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about.” When Cas still doesn’t look convinced, he adds, “Believe me, he’s gonna think it’s hot as fuck.”

Cas is quiet for several seconds while his eyes search Dean’s, and when he finally says something back, Cas’s voice is almost... husky... in a way that goes right to his dick. “I hope so.”

He’s _ barely _ able to resist the urge to squirm in his seat. Speaking before he thinks, Dean wonders, “Can I ask a follow up question?” 

“As long as you know I might not answer.”

“Fair,” Dean decides. “Are you goin’ into the whole soulmate thing hoping your other half’s the same way? Untouched or whatever? ‘Cause I gotta warn you, I don’t know many other people who would’ve waited as long as you have.”

“God no,” Cas says quickly. “I have no expectations either way, but I guess if I had to pick... it would be nice if at least one of us knew what they were doing.”

Dean chuckles as some of the sexual tension between them fizzles out. “Yeah, good call. I mean, you’d figure it out either way, but I’m with you. Much better going in knowing somebody can take care of you.”

“I guess you don’t have to worry about that kind of thing since you don’t have a soulmate,” Cas says.

“Honestly, that ship sailed way before I would’ve known either way,” Dean confesses. “I was fifteen for my first time. Super classy, in the closet at a boy/girl birthday party.”

“And was it a boy or a girl?” 

“Girl. Was happy enough with that for a couple of years before I realized guys were twice as easy and not nearly as much work,” Dean jokes, and Cas laughs the way he hoped he would.

“Then what happened?” Cas asks. “To make you stop dating?”

“Usual story,” Dean says, acting like even dancing around it doesn’t still tear him to shreds. “Boy meets girl, boy falls head over freaking heels, girl leaves boy for soulmate she thought she didn’t have.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas says quietly.

“Not a big deal,” Dean lies. “Obviously wasn’t meant to be, right?”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t real,” Cas points out. “That pain, though? That’s a big reason I don’t date. I don’t want to hurt anybody, or get hurt myself.” 

“You’re one of the good ones,” Dean tells him, and for some reason, Cas looks like he was just slapped.

“Do you ever wonder...” The previews choose that exact moment to start, and while Cas could’ve let it drop, he scooches closer to finish his question. Dean licks his lips and tries to ignore the way Cas’s proximity has his heart beating faster than the first time he brought a girl back here hoping to make out. “The girl who thought she didn’t have a soulmate? Doesn’t it make you wonder if you have one you haven’t heard yet?”

It’s gotta be how close Cas is—the way he can almost _ feel _ his low voice traveling over his skin, how he smells deliciously earthy but sweet at the same time now that he’s close enough to notice—that pulls the truth from between his lips for the first time in years.

“Only ten times a day.”

He can’t see into Cas’s eyes as clearly as he’d like to because of the low light in the theater, but he gets the impression that they’re darker than they were before. “Is that what you want?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Doesn’t everybody?” 

Cas surprises the shit out of him when he shakes his head no. “I don’t think so. I know I was against it before I heard mine.”

“What was he singing?” Dean asks him. And for once, he’s actually curious, unlike the other hundred times he’s asked that question in his life. 

“I—I’m sorry, Dean. You’ve been very forthcoming with me and it’s not that I don’t want to share this with you, but it seems wrong to talk about it when I haven’t even told him yet.”

He’s noticed that Cas is really good at soothing the hurt before he causes it, and just like getting turned down last night, it doesn’t feel like as much of a blow as it probably would’ve from somebody else. 

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Wanting to move the conversation to more lighthearted, friendly shit than what they’ve been talking about so far, he tilts the bag of popcorn in Cas’s direction. “Popcorn?”

Cas smiles, a soft, gentle thing that makes him feel like he did something right for maybe the first time _ ever _ with Cas. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They lapse into a comfortable quiet after that, sharing the popcorn between them, and every now and then, making comments about the previews. Cas produces the 3D glasses he grabbed for them along the way, and they both laugh at the other when they put them on. 

“That’s proof right there that literally _ nobody _ can look good in these,” Cas says, which is close enough to a compliment to have Dean smiling moronically for longer than he’d like to admit.

By the time the movie starts, the popcorn is cradled in the crook of his elbow closest to Cas, and Cas is leaning in so close they’re basically sharing the armrest. Half way through, their knees start knocking together a hell of a lot like they did last night at the bar, and when the ending comes along, they’ve been pressed firmly together from thigh-to-thigh for long enough that Dean’s leg feels cold without it when they stand. 

Unfortunately, that same warmth he’d felt with Cas last night doesn’t leave him quite as quickly. 

_ Friends, _ he repeats in his head. 

“What’d you think?” Dean asks once they follow the crowd through the exit. 

“I liked it a lot,” Cas says with a big smile on his face. “I know you saw my jaw drop a few times, so I’m really glad I got to see it before any of those moments were spoiled for me. Thanks for coming with me.”

“Was even better the second time,” Dean says back. Yeah, it was probably because of the company, but Cas doesn’t need to know he spent most of the movie watching him instead of the screen. Turns out 3D glasses are good for something after all. “Where’d you park?”

“Oh, it wasn’t far, so I walked,” Cas says.

“Well, you’re coming with me then. I’ll drop you off.”

“I really don't mind walking.”

“I was clearly too drunk to stop you from walking home alone last night at 2AM, but you’re stuck with the sober, pushy Dean tonight.”

“The true Dean?” Cas asks. 

“For me to know and you to find out,” he jokes. 

“Alright. I’ll accept a ride, but you should know drunk Dean also tried to make me take a Lyft last night.”

“Aha! Chivalry isn’t dead after all,” he laughs. He feels proud of himself for that, so when Cas lets out a dubious sounding hum, he decides to change the subject before Cas can say something else that takes him down a notch. “Did I tell you about my car last night?”

“You mean Baby?” Cas says, humor audible in his voice. “Yes. I listened to you wax poetic about a car for _ far _ longer than I thought was possible. I almost feel like I’m about to have a celebrity sighting.”

“That’s exactly what She deserves,” Dean says, only half serious. 

“Did you park in the next city over? I’m sweating my balls off out here.”

Dean snorts out a laugh. “Just far enough away that nobody would ding her with a door by accident.” As they walk a little further, he can see her back bumper gleaming in the overhead lights. “She’s right here. Cas, _ this _ is my Baby.”

“Wow.” He notices Cas’s voice is suspiciously emotionless. “She’s... big.”

“She’s perfect,” Dean insists. He walks around to the passenger side of the car to unlock the door for Cas, and resists the urge to hold it open like he would for a date. “Go on in and get acquainted. You’ll love her once you get to know her a little.” He slides in behind the wheel once he’s back around the car, and grins over at Cas. “So?”

“It’s a very nice car,” Cas says carefully. “Though I admit that if I didn’t already know better, I would definitely think you were trying to overcompensate for a smaller issue.” He has no idea what Cas is talking about until he rolls his eyes and drops them pointedly to Dean’s crotch. 

“Excuse the hell outta you!” he huffs defensively. “I’m damn well not overcomp—wait a freaking minute. _ Already know better?” _

Cas’s eyes widen and his eyebrows lift like he’s trying to prompt him. “Do you not remember dancing?”

“I remember—” His thigh between Cas’s legs. Which means his dick would have been up close and personal with Cas’s... hip? He can see how that might’ve happened. “Yeeeeah,” he says, dragging it out while he tries to decide if he’s embarrassed or not. He feels like a creep more than anything. “Fucking hell, Cas. What’re you doing getting in a car with a sleeze ball like me?”

“You’re not a sleeze ball. It’s not like I went running in the opposite direction,” Cas says shyly. 

And that is an excellent point. He knows it’s so inappropriate but he asks anyway. “And during the dancing, were you, you know... too?”

“I guess that’s for me to know and you to find out,” Cas says airily. 

Dean laughs, finally getting his brain back in gear enough to ask Cas where he lives. He knows the apartment complex, so he starts the car and backs out of his parking spot with the quiet sounds of Led Zeppelin drifting through the speakers helping him to relax. 

“I like knowing that even when you were as drunk as you were, you were honest about everything. You told me about your car, your love for Led Zeppelin and slasher flicks, and even your secret love of Doctor Sexy MD and holiday movies.” Dean lets out a loud, put-upon sigh, but Cas talks over it. “It made me feel like I could trust you, even if I also learned that I shouldn’t trust the two of us alone together under the influence of alcohol.”

_ Or in movie theaters, _ Dean thinks. But he’s not about to mention that in case it makes Cas feel self-conscious about cozying up together. He’s been known to get pretty chummy and close physically with Jo and that’s not weird, so there’s no reason to make this thing between him and Cas weird either. 

“I learned not to drink and text,” Dean says, which makes Cas laugh. “But seriously, I’m glad I didn’t scare you off. Not only are you friendly with my brother, but you’re Jess’s boss and I wouldn’t want to fuck that up for her.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Cas tells him. “I had fun tonight. I know we didn’t get a lot of time to talk—”

“I’m pretty sure I talked to you more tonight than I’ve talked to anybody in years, Cas. Except for maybe last night, but since I only remember bits and pieces I don’t think that counts,” he chuckles. 

“Even still. I had fun. I hope we can hang out again sometime.”

The words escape him before he can talk himself out of them. “Well, I still owe you a song, right?”

He pulls into the parking lot of Cas’s apartment complex just in time to see Cas’s teasing smile. 

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to bring that up again.” 

_ God, _ he has a nice smile. _ Focus, Dean. _

“You weren’t kidding about not living far,” he says. “Pretty central spot.”

“That’s not an accident,” Cas replies. “So. We’ll do something like this again?”

“Yeah,” Dean confirms with a nod. He turns towards him more and falls into those big, blue eyes again. There’s a lot of kindness there, and as his own smile spreads across his face, it hits him just how badly he wants to keep Cas in his life now that he’s met him. “Got plans for the rest of the week?”

A spark of happiness is added to the kindness in Cas’s eyes, and both of their smiles grow. “Nothing pressing.”

“I’ll see if I can scrounge together a couple of songs for you. To play for you, I mean,” he clarifies after he hears how that could’ve sounded. 

“I knew what you meant.” Cas reassures him with a soft smile. “I’ll see you later this week, then. Thank you for the ride home.” 

His eyes drop from Cas’s eyes when Cas’s tongue darts out to wet his pink, pink lips, and even though he knows he can’t, he must spend too long thinking about what they’d feel like against his. 

“You’re not going to try to kiss me goodnight again, are you?” 

“No, I—” He stops, gapes. “Again? Jesus christ, Cas, how many times did I try to kiss you?”

Cas’s smile flashes quick and bright before he opens the car door and gets out of the car. He ducks his head so Dean can see his face when he asks, “Do you really want the answer to that question?”

He knows just from the unfairly sexy smirk on Cas’s face what his answer should be, and he drops his head onto the steering wheel with an exaggerated groan that has the sound of Cas’s laughter echoing in the car long after Cas closes the door and walks inside. 

He carries the memory of it with him back into his own shabby apartment, and it’s still on his mind when he climbs into bed for the night. 

It isn’t until the next day that he realizes he didn’t fall asleep wishing for his soulmate there next to him for the first time in as long as he can remember. 

He must’ve needed a friend a lot more than he thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel is sure he’s never felt _ this _ exhausted. 

Thursday night he barely slept at all because of Dean’s insistent song-writing, and Friday was a night full of dancing, drinking far, far too much alcohol, and staying up much later than usual. Following that up with a night like last night—where he tossed and turned, plagued with doubt, regret, and so much guilt he can hardly breathe through the permanent lump it’s caused in his throat—had just been the icing on the cake.

His foolishness was bound to catch up with him, though.

He should have told Dean the moment he realized they were soulmates. He should have comforted Dean after his failed performance at the open mic night, let him have a few shots to soothe his nerves, and then he should have opened his mouth and said, “I’ve been hearing you sing your songs in my head since the day I turned 18 years old. I thought you were talented then, and you’ve grown so much and gotten so much better. I _ know _ you have what it takes. You can do this.”

But he didn’t.

He didn’t tell him even when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other at The Roadhouse. He didn’t tell him when Dean tried to kiss him (over and over and over) and he didn’t tell him when Dean asked to spend the night together. He can maybe forgive himself for all of that, knowing how drunk they both were, but he still didn’t tell him when he was sober the next morning. He didn’t tell him when they were texting, and even when his heart had been aching from the song Dean started writing in the afternoon, he didn’t tell him then either.

He comforted himself by thinking that he really shouldn’t have told him via text message.

Except then they went to a movie, and if a tiny part of him had been wondering if things between them were only amplified because of the alcohol the night before, being stone cold sober in a movie theater had proved just how wrong _ that _ had been. If anything, he was more attracted to this tired (yes, _ tired, _ but still achingly beautiful) and carefully guarded man than ever before. 

It scared the wits out of him.

Because the truth is, he knows he might have already screwed things up between him and Dean before they’ve even started, and it’s all his fault. There had even been a golden opportunity presented to him when they were at the movies and Dean started talking about soulmates, and he still didn’t take it. Yes, it might have been an embarrassing time to confess right after he declared his virgin status, but the look Dean had been giving him at the time was enough to know that he wasn’t deterred by it in the least.

But still, he didn’t do it.

It was easy enough to lose himself in the movie and the strange mix of comfort and simmering arousal he’d felt from Dean’s thigh slotted along his, and even the cautiously flirtatious banter in the Impala had done a good job of distracting him away from the real issue. But once he got home, he started spiraling.

How could he do this to Dean?

Dean’s going to hate him.

Dean’s going to look at him and see a liar, and thinking about that hurt so much that it kept him from falling asleep Saturday night. By Sunday night, he was too busy trying to come up with what he can do moving forward to mend what will surely be broken trust between them. The first step came to him clearly enough: he’s going to have to do what he should have done from the beginning and tell Dean what he knows. Unfortunately, that’s also what kept him up late yet again. His overactive imagination had helped him come up with dozens of scenarios (that will probably never come to pass) about how Dean might react to him telling the truth. Dean could yell, he could cry, he could not care at all... or... it’s possible that he could be happy. Dean could be excited, he could call Castiel an idiot a split second before he uses the muscular arms that had been wrapped around him Friday night to haul him up against Dean’s body and smash their mouths together in a first kiss so hot it would steal his breath.

Sometimes the whole overactive imagination thing can be a real pain in the ass.

He finally dragged himself out of bed Monday morning, feeling no less rested than he did before the weekend. He still forced himself to go for his morning run since he missed Saturday due to his hangover, and the rush of endorphins served him well, helping him to clear his head.

By Tuesday, he has his mind 100% made up about telling Dean the truth, and he’s been waiting anxiously for a chance to see Dean ever since. He’s hoping that if he can keep his nerve and tell Dean they’re soulmates before the end of the next time they see each other, Dean will understand his thought process and maybe even forgive him. 

He’s in bed Tuesday night, trying to remind himself Dean wouldn’t have been texting him all week if he was going to just blow him off altogether, when he finally gets the invitation he has been waiting for. Dean wants to hang out after work tomorrow. He offers to go to Dean since Dean won’t have to cart his guitar around that way, but once Dean realizes that means Castiel will have to walk or Lyft since he doesn’t have a car, he insisted on coming to him.

So now it’s Wednesday evening, and he’s pacing nervously in his living room waiting for the buzz of the building’s intercom system. Dean will be here any minute. Knowing that he’s about to face him and confess his secret has his stomach churning with nerves, but he knows he has to do the right thing if he wants any chance at all with Dean.

And god, does he.

Even though he was expecting it, he jumps a little when he hears the buzzer. He has to tell himself not to dive on the answering button the way he wants to, and instead, he takes two deep breaths before he presses it. “Yeah?”

“It’s me,” Dean says.

He takes care to make sure he doesn’t sound as eager as he feels. “Come on up.” He presses the button to open the door for him, and now he’s _ really _ anxious waiting for the knock, which thankfully, only comes a few minutes later. He takes another deep breath before he pulls the door open, and one look at Dean standing there in a brown leather jacket with the collar popped has it coming out again all in a rush.

“Heya Cas.”

Cas is finding it rather difficult to form words right now, so he just smiles and steps back, holding the door open for Dean to walk through. Once the door closes behind him again, he catches a whiff of what must be Dean’s cologne or body wash or something else that smells absolutely delicious, and a pang of desire makes itself known low in his stomach. 

“Fancy digs,” Dean comments, his eyes scanning [the room](https://i.imgur.com/K1jf2aD.png). Castiel’s one bedroom apartment opens up right to the living room. His couch is against the wall on the left, and right beside it is the patio door that leads out to a tiny balcony. Across from the couch is his flat screen television mounted on the half-wall that separates the living room from the kitchen. Around the corner from the television is the doorway to the kitchen, and the (closed) door to his bedroom is across from the front door. “My place is a shoebox compared to this.”

Cas laughs breathlessly, blushing already for no good reason other than Dean is in his apartment. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, it really is,” Dean insists. Then he looks down at Castiel’s socked feet. “You’re a shoes off at the door kinda guy?”

“Old habit from when I was a kid. You can leave them on if you want.”

Dean’s already toeing his sturdy but worn-looking boots off, though. Dean leans his guitar case against the wall and shrugs out of his leather jacket, slipping it onto one of the empty hooks on the coat tree without asking, but Castiel doesn’t comment because he’s distracted by the way Dean’s t-shirt clings to his muscular shoulders while his back is turned. He’s never seen Dean wearing only a single layer, and though he knew Dean was well-muscled because of how closely they danced on Friday, really _ seeing _ it is something else entirely. Just the very idea of someday getting to run his hands down Dean’s flank, memorizing the mouth-watering shape of Dean’s broad shoulders tapering down to his tiny waist with his own hands is enough to make him feel light-headed.

“Cas?”

“Sorry,” he says quickly. His face is positively flaming now that he’s been caught staring, so he turns away from Dean to take a few steps away from the door towards the couch. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Nah, I’m okay for now. Might need something before I start to play, though.”

“Would you like to see the rest of the apartment before we sit?” he asks.

“Yeah, sure. It’s nice and cool in here compared to my place.” 

“Perk of a new building.” Castiel leads him through to his bedroom first, just to get it out of the way. “This is my room,” he says needlessly. He has a king size bed against the same wall the couch is against, a night stand on either side of it, and a bookshelf on the wall across from the door. There’s a window next to the bed, a walk-in closet across from it, and the only bathroom in the apartment beside it. He opens both doors for Dean to peek his head into, then goes back through the living room to show him the kitchen, which is tiny, but suits his needs well enough.

“Jeez, I think the bathroom might be bigger than this,” Dean comments, which gets a smile out of him.

“It definitely feels that way whenever I cook.”

“Least you can cook without turning your apartment into a sauna. It’s a nice place,” Dean tells him. 

“Thank you.” The kitchen really does feel small with the two of them standing in it, so he walks back through the doorway to the living room. “I didn’t really think I’d be here as long as I have when I moved in, so I guess it’s a good thing I like it.”

He takes his preferred seat in the corner of the couch closest to the wall, and after grabbing his guitar case, Dean follows his lead to sit on the other end. “Planned on leaving sooner?”

“I didn’t think it would be big enough for two people,” Castiel explains, and Dean hums as he seems to get it. 

Castiel watches as Dean begins flipping open the buckles holding the guitar case closed with confident, sure fingers. “Thought you’d find your soulmate by now?”

Castiel nods, but his heart lurches now that Dean’s brought this up. “Most people do.”

“Yeah,” Dean answers, and once again, Castiel’s oddly mesmerized by watching Dean pull his guitar out of the case and settle it into his lap. He loses a few more seconds when Dean slings the strap over his shoulder and fishes a pick out of his pocket, but once Dean drags the pick over the strings, he comes back to himself and realizes he should tell him now. 

“I, uhm, actually have something I wanted to talk to you about... about the whole soulmate thing,” he stutters.

Dean looks over at him and his heart starts thumping wildly. _ This is it. _

“Cas,” Dean starts, looking back down at his guitar. “I know we talked about it a little last night, but if I’m gonna be honest, soulmates is sorta a touchy subject for me.”

“I—I know,” Castiel answers, flushing when Dean looks up at him with open curiosity. “I just kind of got that feeling before, I mean.”

“Listen, do you wanna hear me play?” Dean asks suddenly, and of course, Castiel nods. “‘cause I’ve been psyching myself up for this ever since I got here, and I’m afraid I’m gonna lose my nerve if we stop for a chick flick moment.”

“I heard you love chick flicks,” Castiel jokes. He notices for the first time that Dean gets crinkles beside his eyes when he laughs, and his heart thuds _ hard _ in his chest when he realizes how badly he wants to see that again. 

Without even asking who told him, Dean says, “Sam’s a dirty liar.” 

Castiel laughs gently, and before he can say anything else, Dean’s fingers are moving along the neck of the guitar as he starts strumming a familiar tune. Castiel recognizes it immediately as what Dean had started playing at the open mic night, and while he knows he still has to tell Dean that they’re soulmates, he doesn’t want to interrupt him now that he’s started playing.

And god, is he gorgeous when he plays. Even though Dean had alluded to being nervous, his fingers dance over the strings like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and Castiel can’t take his eyes off of him.

“It’s sorta funny you mentioned soulmates, ‘cause this song is me basically making fun of the whole idea,” Dean says over the music.

“The one you sing when you’re doing chores?” Castiel checks, and Dean nods, smiling to himself.

Dean takes a deep breath, a faint blush crops up along his freckled cheeks, and Castiel feels like he’s just been hit with a ray of sunshine when Dean aims that smile in his direction. “Let’s see if I can get through the first verse.”

“You don’t look like you’re going to pass out at least,” Castiel offers.

Dean laughs, and in the very next breath, he starts to sing the song Castiel has heard in his head more than any other song, hands down.

_ “Woke up without you next to me,  
__the same way I do every single day.  
_ _ After coffee, my first thought is always you,  
__wondering if today’ll be our big debut. _

_ Will it be at the coffee shop?  
_ _ Will we bump and spill and—_gasp_—know?  
_ _ Are you gonna beat me to the last slice?  
_ _ ‘cause I gotta tell ya, that one might cut like a knife.” _

He’s heard Dean sing this a thousand times, but _ seeing _him sing it is something completely different. Even knowing what Dean was going to say, he laughs quietly when he sees Dean’s dramatic gasp in person, and another loud bark of laughter escapes when Dean makes himself look adorably devastated about the idea of somebody beating him to the last slice of pie.

There’s no denying that his heart genuinely hurts listening to Dean list all of the different things he doesn’t know about his soulmate, but Dean’s cheesy smile at, “I already love you more than pie,” makes everything else disappear. Dean seems to relax into the second verse, and Castiel finds himself grinning through the rest of the song. When Dean finishes with a final repeat of the chorus and one powerful strum, they’re both smiling from ear-to-ear, and the rush of happiness that overcomes him in the sudden silence is sharper than anything he’s ever felt before.

“That was unbelievable,” Castiel gushes. “Funny but smart and so, so catchy. When you get this out there, it’s going to be stuck in people’s heads forever.”

“Kinda funny to think about a song making fun of soulmates being the thing that’s gonna bring some together,” Dean grins, and Castiel laughs as that occurs to him. 

“I think they’d call that ironic.”

“Don’t you think?” Castiel’s eyebrows draw together in confusion over the question, and Dean snickers. “You really don’t listen to music, huh?”

“Maybe I would if more music sounded like yours.”

Dean’s smiling so wide his cheeks must hurt. “God, Cas, you have no idea how good it feels to hear that I don’t sound like shit from somebody who doesn’t have to say that.” 

His heart sinks like a stone. 

“You absolutely _ don’t _ sound like shit,” Castiel ensures him.

“The thing is, I—I usually only play for Sam and Jess, and Jo sometimes if she’s there, but they’re all basically family, you know? And it’s not that I don’t believe them I guess, but it’s kinda like your mom telling you you’re handsome or whatever,” Dean says, smiling weakly.

“Like they have to think that because they’re family?” 

“Yes! Exactly!” Dean exclaims. “And then there’s you. We haven’t known each other all that long, sure as hell didn’t on Friday, but you still thought what you heard wasn’t shit, and like you said, there’s no reason for you to lie about liking it. Maybe...” He shakes his head like he can’t really believe what he’s saying. “Maybe I _ can _ do this.”

He flinched at the mention of the word _ lie, _ but because he’s not lying about enjoying Dean’s music, he’s able to look him straight in the eye when he responds. “You _ can. _ You’ve got a gift, Dean. Both with the way you play and the way you sing, and knowing you wrote that song yourself is just... mind-blowing, really.”

Dean scoffs, though he doesn’t sound displeased. “‘s nothing. It’s not like I wrote Stairway to Heaven. Was jokes, mostly.”

Castiel shakes his head, scooching closer to Dean on the couch so he can better drill into his head how _ not _ nothing that was. “No, that was not just _ jokes. _ Your words are bright and witty, and that’s exactly why they’re so funny.” Dean glances away when his cheeks become rosy with his embarrassment, but Castiel places his hand on his arm to get his attention again. Dean’s plump lips are parted when he looks back at him, and his breath catches audibly when Castiel’s fingers wrap around his bicep. For his part, he’s mentally scrambling past the thoughts of just how firm Dean’s upper arm is when he’s not even flexing it so that he can get back to the point he wants to make. “That song walks the line of making fun of _ the idea _ of soulmates without making fun of the people who actually have them. It’s brilliant, Dean. _ You’re _ brilliant.”

Dean’s voice comes out low and breathless. _ “Fuck, _ your eyes are blue.” Castiel blinks in confusion and pulls back slightly, momentarily thrown off by the spontaneity of the comment. Dean huffs out an apology around a laugh, his face so red Castiel is genuinely concerned for his well-being. “Hah. What I—I probably shoulda said is thank you, not something that sounded like a god awful pick-up line.”

“Well, my eyes _ are _ pretty blue,” Castiel teases, enjoying the way Dean’s lips quirk at the corners. Because Dean’s face still looks so warm, he asks, “Would you like something to drink now?”

“Yeah, actually. A bottle of water would be awesome.”

“Water bottles are terrible for the environment, you know,” Castiel says, quietly reprimanding him. “But I can get you a glass of filtered water, or soda.”

Dean sounds amused, but he agrees, “A glass works.”

He gives Dean’s arm a gentle squeeze before he releases it, then goes to get Dean’s drink. A few moments away from Dean’s intoxicating proximity is probably a good thing anyway, he realizes as he enters the kitchen. He didn’t notice how hard his heart has been beating until now, when it’s starting to slow and he feels like he can actually take a calming breath. He shakes his hands out to steady them, then takes down a glass before he goes to the fridge to pull out the pitcher.

_ You have no idea how good it feels to hear that I don’t sound like shit from somebody who doesn’t have to say that. Maybe I _ can _ do this. _

The resolve Castiel had been building up since he left Dean’s car Saturday night shattered the second he heard those words. He knows it’s wrong not to tell Dean that they’re soulmates, but is it any better to watch Dean lose what little confidence he just gained? He can’t. He can’t do that to Dean. It’s easy to see how much Dean’s music means to him; he’s never seen Dean so happy and care-free as he was when he was playing the guitar for him. How can he be the one to take away the little bit of courage Dean needs to make his dreams come true after he just found it?

He _ can’t. _

The truth will have to wait a little bit longer.

Dean will be mad, he knows he’ll be mad, but maybe if Castiel can continue to help him build his confidence and reassure him that he’s talented, the two of them can work together to come up with a way for Dean to get his music out there without having to sing it on a stage. Then, once Dean’s selling songs or at least putting them out there, Castiel can tell him and they can be together then.

It won’t be easy to wait—it’s been less than a week and not touching Dean when he could be is already killing him—but it’s what’s best for Dean. 

Isn’t it?

“Didja get lost in here?” Dean asks, suddenly standing behind him. 

When he turns to face him, there’s only inches between them and he can feel the body heat coming off of Dean. It makes his throat run dry. “Must have gotten lost in thought,” Castiel says, reaching for a second glass for himself now. 

“Hey, are you okay? You look... sorta sad.”

“I am sorta sad,” he admits. 

Dean looks nervous, but he doesn’t say anything while he fills the two glasses, or when Castiel carries them both out to the living room. It’s not until they’re settled back on the couch, both of them sitting more towards the middle than they did the first time, when Dean takes his glass and a sip of water.

Then the words seem to spill out of Dean and jumble themselves up all at once. “If you’re upset I—I came onto you again, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just—god, Cas, the way you were lookin’ at me—it just came out.”

Castiel smiles to reassure him. “Please don’t apologize for a compliment. I’m not upset about that. I’ve had my share of brain-to-mouth filter malfunctions because of you, too, you know.”

“Oh. That’s, uh, good, actually,” Dean breathes, obviously relieved. “You sad about what you wanted to talk about before, then?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers. “Except I’m not so sure I want to tell you anymore.”

“You know that just makes me ten times more curious, right?” Dean asks, and Castiel smiles more genuinely now. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“I’m not sure telling you is the right thing to do. No,” he says sharply, disagreeing with himself before Dean can comment. “It _ is _ the right thing to do, but I’m not sure if the timing is right.”

“So wait,” Dean says easily, irritating him with his glib response.

“It’s not that simple.”

“How come? Not like I’m going anywhere.” Dean shrugs, then drinks from his glass until it’s half gone. Castiel isn’t sure what to say, how much to say. He’s still floundering when Dean places his glass on the table and turns more towards him, folding his leg under him. Dean’s knee rests against Castiel’s outer thigh, and he lets out a shaky breath, feeling infinitely better now that there’s some kind of physical contact between them. “I’m not real good at talking about emotions or feelings or whatever, but the one thing I’ve learned along the way is that if it doesn’t feel right, it probably ain’t.”

He isn't talking about telling Dean the truth anymore when he asks, “And if it feels right?” His voice has dropped to a whisper without his permission, and there isn’t a single thing he wants more in the world right now than to slide his hand under Dean’s palm innocently resting in the space between them.

“You were there Friday. You know what I do when something feels right.”

Dean goes for it. Dean puts himself out there, again and again, even if he gets hurt. Or at least he did on Friday. 

“You were drunk,” he says, once he thinks it.

Dean ducks his head and quirks a shy-looking smile, his fingers starting to draw a pattern on the leather. “Drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts and all that.”

Because Dean’s eyes are now trained on what he’s doing with his finger, Castiel takes the opportunity to search his face for any hint of what he should be saying right now. It only takes him a second to become distracted by the slight blush still warming the freckles painted across Dean’s cheeks, the strong slope of his nose, and the incredibly long, almost feminine-looking eyelashes that flutter when he blinks. 

_ You’re so beautiful. _

The memory of saying those exact words on Friday night comes back to him in a rush. He wonders if Dean remembers, if Dean has any idea how just looking at him makes his heart ache because he knows Dean is his and he can’t understand how he ever got so lucky. 

It’s not fair—he knows even as the words come to mind that he should never, ever ask this of Dean—but he does anyway.

“Promise me you won’t hate me once I tell you.”

Dean flicks his eyes up without lifting his head, those moss-green eyes beaming at him through his lashes. Dean’s expression looks scared and guarded, and shame swamps Castiel so completely he slams his eyes closed, feeling tears begin to gather behind his eyelids. 

“Hey,” Dean says softly, sounding concerned. Castiel keeps his eyes closed, and the first tear falls when a warm, rough hand cups his jaw. Dean’s fingers are calloused from his guitar, and they scrape pleasantly on his skin. “If you think I’m gonna be pissed, I probably will be,” Dean says, and even though there shouldn’t be anything about this that’s funny, a quiet snort of laughter escapes him anyway. Their eyes meet again, and he sees Dean’s eyes are glittering with laughter, too. “But you’re a good guy, Cas. I don’t see you telling me something bad enough that it would make me hate you.”

“Will you let me explain? After I tell you?” he asks hoarsely.

“Probably not right away,” Dean admits. He misses his touch the moment Dean’s hand drops from his face, but this time it lands on Castiel’s leg instead of the couch. “I’ve got a hell of a temper, takes me a while to cool down.”

“Please—please know I don’t want to hurt you,” Castiel says quietly.

“Then don’t.”

But _ how? _ He’s made such a mess out of this already, there’s nothing he can do that _ won’t _ hurt Dean. They sit there in silence for some time. He has no idea how long, whether it’s seconds, minutes, or longer, he just knows he feels better sitting here with Dean as the sun sinks in the sky than he does when he’s by himself. He watches the shadows on the wall get longer as he tries to think everything through for the millionth time, and it occurs to him suddenly that if he’s careful, he might be able to come up with a way to ask Dean if he’d rather have his soulmate or a successful music career without tipping him off. 

He practices the wording in his head several times before he says it aloud. “If you could have anything in the whole world without consequences, what would it be?”

Dean hesitates only a moment. “My songs on the radio.” 

Castiel smiles and nods, somehow feeling both sad and happy because of Dean’s response, but he uses that tiny bit of knowledge to tell himself that he’s making the right choice. “Will you play for me again before you go?”

“I would, but that means I have to take my hand offa your leg, and I don’t know if you’re gonna let me put it there again if I do,” Dean smirks, clearly teasing him.

He blushes, but says, “Then I should probably tell you that I’m very comfortable with friendly displays of affection.”

Dean smiles so big it looks like he just found out he won the lottery, and Castiel feels butterflies take flight in his stomach. 

“I know I told you I’d sing you a couple songs of mine, but I, uh, don’t really have the balls to play any of my other ones. Not for you,” Dean confesses, laughing a little at himself while he straightens up and reaches for his guitar again. “Got any requests I could try to cover?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know many songs.” Then he gets an idea. “Play me something that makes you feel happy.”

Dean nods, his fingers already starting to dance along the strings and the neck of the guitar, and before he’s even started playing an actual song, Castiel is completely lost watching him. He could watch Dean play forever.

“Most people would already know this, but you aren’t most people,” Dean says with a fond smile. “So just so you know for later, this is called 'Simple Man' by Lynyrd Skynyrd.”

Castiel sits back in awe, listening to him play this song he chose because it makes him happy, and he’s even more amazed when Dean starts to sing. He sings about a mother asking her son to take his time with love, to forget about the lust of gold, and that all she wants for him is to live a satisfying life.

Thoughts of he and Dean replace the dream he had last week of him and a faceless man sitting out on a porch swing. Now it’s Dean, sitting at his feet with the sun shining behind him, caressing the breathtaking angles of his face with its rays as Dean plays him all the love songs he never bothered to listen to before. He can see it so clearly, how Dean would suddenly get that playful smile on his face and tug him to his feet. He remembers exactly how it felt to be pressed up against him, how smoothly the skin on his cheek rubbed his on the dance floor, and it’s so, so easy to imagine how it would feel to have Dean’s arms wrapped around him with his low voice humming 'Simple Man' into his ear while they dance on the porch. 

When Dean sings the words, “Boy, don’t you worry, you’ll find yourself. Follow your heart and nothing else,” he feels like Dean is speaking to him, telling him to do the impossible, and tears cloud his vision for the second time that night because he can't make himself do it.

When the song is over, he goes without a thought when Dean discards the guitar and opens his arms wordlessly. Dean’s arms envelope him oh-so-perfectly for several long minutes until Dean’s hand tentatively bushes through his hair. Castiel sighs into his touch and Dean’s blunt nails scratch softly along his scalp, once, twice, three times before his hand settles on the nape of his neck. It fits perfectly, Castiel thinks dazedly. _ They _ fit perfectly, with his arms on Dean’s strong chest, his shoulder tucked under Dean’s arm, Dean’s cheek pillowed on the top of his head. 

He’s able to fight back the tears this time, thanks to the comfort Dean is offering him, and once their breathing syncs up and he’s all but melted against Dean’s side, Dean asks, “Better?”

“Much.” But he doesn’t even think about moving away, and Dean doesn’t ask him to. 

Once again, they sit together in silence, and this time, he starts to wonder what Dean’s thinking. He knows Dean’s his soulmate, so as much as he doesn’t want to start anything romantically intimate with Dean while he’s keeping that life-changing tidbit from him, it doesn’t bother him being close to him like this. They’re meant to be; this was always supposed to happen. 

But what is Dean thinking? Dean, who doesn’t date. Dean, who has already had his heart broken by a woman when she left him for her soulmate. What is Dean doing lying here, cradling him in his arms as if he’s something precious when Dean thinks Castiel has a soulmate that isn’t him?  
  
...unless Dean knows?

But no, he doesn’t really think so. Dean doesn’t think he has a soulmate. Dean would say something. Dean goes after what he wants, he remembers, and then it occurs to him that maybe he _ is _ what Dean wants, soulmate or not, and the thought makes him smile, but also, reluctantly push away. He doesn’t want to confuse things between them anymore than he already has. 

“Kinda sucks that my happy song made you even more sad,” Dean comments, and Castiel shakes his head a little.

“You have such a beautiful voice,” Castiel says, though he knows that doesn’t explain anything. “It just—it made my heart hurt for how badly I want what’s in that song.” _ How badly I want that with you._ “A simple man, a simple life.”

“That’s what your dreams are made of, huh?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers honestly. “A small house on the outskirts of town. Quiet, except for the sounds of nature all around us. A good book open in my lap and the sun beating down on our skin, making everything look golden yellow and dusty but beautiful.”

Dean has a soft little smile on his face, like he can picture it and likes how it looks. “Guess you’re gonna have to buy a car.”

Castiel’s smile turns quickly into a laugh, because he never even considered that. “That’s true.”

“Your soulmate’s probably gonna have some pathetic excuse of an electric car or something, some save the world bullshit just like you and your water bottles—” Castiel opens his mouth to protest, but Dean talks over him. “—so promise me you’ll let me help you out and get you a _ real _ car before he talks you into a fuckin’ Prius, okay?”

“And why exactly do you assume you would know more about cars than him?” he asks.

“Because I would,” Dean answers confidently. 

“Let me guess, you consider yourself some kind of expert just because you drive an antique muscle car?”

“No, because I grew up at the feet of my Uncle Bobby, who owned his own garage,” Dean tells him. For some reason, Castiel finds himself charmed by the idea of a younger Dean, freckle-faced with a streak of grease on his cheek. “Was gonna be mine someday before I followed Sammy out here for school.”

“Really?” he asks, though he knows Dean isn’t joking. “I can see you as a mechanic,” Castiel says. “Funny to think how much time we’ve spent talking the last few days and you never mentioned what you do for a living.”

“I’m, uh, not actually. A mechanic anymore, I mean. Couldn’t find a job when I moved here. I work in a shop, but I’m just the parts guy.”

It seems difficult for Dean to get those words out, but he can’t understand why. “Do you not like it there?”

Dean shrugs, shakes his head a little. “Not the same as bein’ under a car, figuring out what’s wrong with it. But it ain’t terrible.” Castiel can tell this bothers Dean more than he wants to say, and he wonders why. But then Dean grins, and adds, “Not as bad as bein’ stuck with a bunch of books all day.”

Castiel lets his jaw drop to show his indignation. “What did books ever do to you?”

Dean’s eyes are sparkling with laughter now, and it’s something he’d like to see a lot more of. “Nothin’, I was just pulling your leg. I, uh, I actually read every night before bed.”

“Oh yeah? Where do you buy your books?”

Dean cracks a smile. “Scoping out the competition?”

“Well, I don’t think I need to anymore. I’d be downright insulted if you didn’t start coming to One Page At A Time now that we’re friends.”

“Sorry to break it to ya, Cas, but I use an e-reader.”

“No,” Castiel decides, shaking his head back and forth. “While I occasionally use my Kindle for travel purposes, you just can’t enjoy a book the same way when you can’t turn the pages by hand, feeling the cover warm in your hands, the pages dwindling one-by-one, letting you know you’re almost done.”

“The, uh, progress tracker thingy on the screen does the same thing, you know. 90% done,” Dean tells him. 

“No,” Castiel says again. “Come by my store sometime with Sam and I’ll reintroduce you to the joy of paper books.”

“Can I come alone, or do I have to bring Sam?” Dean asks, hitting him with a flirtatious smile that makes his heart skip a beat.

“N-no. I mean yes,” he corrects, fumbling over his words like an idiot as he tries to answer both questions at once. “You _ don’t _have to bring Sam, and yes you can come alone. You can come whenever you want, Dean.”

“Music to my ears,” Dean says with an eyebrow waggle, and just like that, his mouth's as dry as a desert. Castiel sits there, gaping like a fish, trying to figure out what he should say _ to that _ when Dean’s stomach grumbles. Loudly. “Whoops,” Dean laughs self-consciously. 

“Hungry?”

“Yeah, actually. I didn’t eat before I came over.” Dean looks at him for a second, like he’s trying to decide something, then asks, “Wanna go get a bite at The Roadhouse?”

His heart leaps, because he hadn’t wanted to say goodbye again quite yet. He only had a salad for dinner and he didn't finish it since he was so nervous for Dean to come over, so he could definitely eat again. “Only if you let me buy to pay you back for the shots and the movie.”

“Deal.”

Dinner is much more laid back than it was at his apartment. Maybe because they aren’t alone anymore, or maybe because Dean wants to have a normal, unemotionally-charged conversation as much as he does. Whatever the reason, they chat idly over their burgers and shakes. 

He learns that Sam and Dean’s parents have both been gone for years, and that their Uncle Bobby raised them in South Dakota, near Sioux Falls. Dean became a licensed mechanic in order to take over what he called the family business, even though he explained there’s no real blood relation between the Winchesters and Bobby. Sam apparently always dreamed of law school, but never mentioned anything to Dean until he knew if he would qualify for scholarships or not. Once he did, he sprang the idea on both Dean and Bobby last minute, and Dean was so torn up over a twelve-hour drive separating them, he left his job, his future plans, and his Uncle to follow Sam to Denton. 

Things with Cassie, the ex who left Dean for her soulmate, had just ended, and so Dean had jumped at the chance at a new start before he thought it all the way through. Dean and Sam had both still been living with Bobby (though Dean was staying at Cassie’s most of the time) so Dean figured he had plenty of savings to get him through until he found a job that paid as well as Bobby’s. Dean thought he might be able to sell a song or two to help him out, but he breaks Castiel’s heart when he has to look away to tell him it’s been four years and he isn’t any closer to making it happen now as he was when he first got here.

For his part, Castiel tells Dean about his eccentric but caring parents, Becky and Chuck. The family isn’t close, but they see each other twice a year at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and most of that time is spent with the three of them sitting in an awkward silence that his mom tries to fill with way too much information about the erotica novels she writes. 

It’s so easy to talk to Dean, he feels like he’s known him much, much longer than just a few days. Their feet end up tangled together under the table, and all of it is so nice that he wishes the evening didn’t have to end at all. It does, of course, they always do, and then Castiel is dropped off at home where he hums 'Simple Man' and thinks back over all the times he made Dean smile today as he prepares lunch for work tomorrow. 

The rest of the week passes uneventfully, and though he and Dean text back and forth a few times, nobody mentions getting together again. It’s silly to miss him already, but he does anyway. He hears Dean singing the song about the lock and key a few times throughout the week, and based on the words he gets stuck in his head late Thursday night, Dean’s decided on another chorus. 

_ A warm hand in mine._  
_ Lips soft and firm and pink._  
_ Kisses so good the thought makes my head spin._  
_ Not just any will do,_  
_Not when I only want you._

Is it foolish to hope Dean is thinking about him? Probably, but then again, Castiel hasn’t been anything _ but _ foolish since he met Dean. He falls asleep easily Thursday night with a smile on his face and Dean’s words stuck in a comforting loop in his head. 

He’s both looking forward to and dreading seeing Jess when she comes in for her shift on Friday. He remembers Sam specifically saying that it would be weird if he got fall-down drunk at the bar last weekend, and though he doesn’t recall falling down, he did end up getting inappropriately drunk in front of an employee. By the time Jess walks in ten minutes before her shift, he’s a nervous wreck and still completely at a loss with how he’s supposed to deal with this entire situation.

He’s braced himself to bring it up as soon as Jess walks in, but one look at the scowl on her face has his entire speech derailed before it can even start. “Is everything okay?”

“It will be,” she replies. “After I murder Sam Winchester.”

Castiel winces. “Did... something happen?”

She turns to him with a hand on her hip. “You’ve heard your soulmate, right?” He nods, and she says, “Okay, but have you ever had a song stuck in your head because he’s singing _ the wrong words?” _

“The wrong words?”

“Yes!” she exclaims. “Don’t ask me _ how _ since this is 2020, but my idiot soulmate has been singing 'Cotton-Eye Joe' all morning, and he doesn’t even know the words!” Castiel squints at her, unsure what exactly a Cotton-Eye Joe is and why it’s such a big deal. “Let me walk you through what’s been on repeat in my brain today, okay? The first line is, ‘If it hadn’t been for Cotton-Eye Joe, I’d been married a long time ago,’ right? And sure, he’s got the married part down just fine, but do you have _ any idea _what else has been stuck in my head since I was in the shower this morning?”

She’s a little scary, with her nostrils flaring and her eyes narrowed. There’s this hysterical edge to her voice that instinctively has him shrinking back a little, and he wonders if he should try to warn Sam somehow? Male solidarity or something? But when Jess leans in a little closer with her eyebrows raised expectantly, he figures Sam is man enough to handle himself.

“What?” he asks carefully.

“Ah-badeep-badopp-eye-die-doe, I’d been married long time ago. Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from Cotton-Eye Joe?”

He frowns, trying to make sense out of that. “Sorry? What was the beginning part?”

“Ah-badeep-badopp-eye-die-doe,” she repeats dryly, one syllable at a time.

He imagines Sam—serious, down-to-earth, always has his nose in a book Sam—walking around campus singing _ that _ under his breath, and before he can stop it, he laughs. It’s a tiny, quiet little snort that escapes him, and immediately, he throws his hands over his mouth to stop it, wishing desperately that he could take it back. He’s trying to figure out how to apologize with his hands still over his mouth when the impossible happens: _ Jess _ laughs.

It sounds like it surprises her just as much as it surprises him, and then the next thing he knows, they’re both cracking up, having to lean on the counter to hold them up because they’re laughing so hard. 

“God, I needed that,” Jess says finally. “I was so annoyed I never really stopped to think about how freaking _ stupid _ he is,” she laughs fondly. “I love that dork.”

“You’re very lucky,” Castiel tells her, meaning it sincerely.

“Oh believe me, I know. Watching you and Dean dance around each other like a couple of drunk idiots imitating a mating ritual Friday night was a good reminder.”

Castiel grimaces at the description. “I’m sorry you had to see that. It was really—”

“Hilarious,” Jess finishes for him. He flushes, and Jess gives his shoulder a friendly pat. “No big deal, Castiel. Really. It was nice to see Dean let loose and have fun after an open mic night instead of brooding into his beer like a 6 foot baby.”

“I’m glad you don’t think less of me for it,” Castiel says. 

“As long as you don’t think less of me for my bitch fit when I came in here this morning.”

“Not at all. I mean, ah-badeep-badopp-eye-die-doe sounds pretty annoying to have stuck in your head.”

“The whole song is ridiculous! _ Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from Cotton-Eye Joe?” _

“Where did you come from Cotton-Eye Joe?” Castiel repeats. “The song asks the same question twice in a row?”

“No word of a lie, like, fifteen times. That’s 90% of the lyrics. Dean said you don’t know _ any _ music, so you’ve never even heard that song before, right?” Castiel shakes his head and Jess starts singing, “Where did you come from, where did you go?” 

She points two fingers at him, and he knows without having to ask that he’s supposed to pick it up from there. He tries to match her higher pitch when he finishes, “Where did you come from Cotton-Eye Joe?” Jess smiles wide and gives him a high-five, which makes him laugh, too. “And Dean thinks he needs to be Shakespeare to sell a song.”

Jess throws her head back and cackles. “Exactly!”

He smiles to himself thinking about the ridiculous start of their shared shift, and after Jess goes to put her purse in the tiny staff room, she comes back looking a lot more like the sunny, smiley young woman he hired. 

“Oh, I almost forgot! Sam and Dean are bringing us lunch today since Sam’s trying to suck up for being annoying and Dean’s with him,” she tells him. “Dean said he knows what you like.” She adds a little eyebrow wiggle that is entirely too Dean-like to be coincidental, and his cheeks are flushed when he turns away to get to work. 

He forgets all about the new shipment of books waiting to be put away when the idea of Dean in his store reminds him what he said about getting Dean a good book to read. So instead of lazily stocking the shelves and watching the door waiting for Dean to walk through like he thought he might, the next half hour is spent stressing over finding the perfect book for Dean... all while trying to hide from Jess’s knowing smirk. 


	4. Chapter 4

Dean’s having a weird week.

He’s stuck in this messed up place somewhere between being so attracted to Cas he can’t fucking think straight and _ trying _ to think straight enough to know that hanging out with somebody who’s taken when he’s this into him already is a terrible idea. He goes about his days getting lost in thoughts about Cas’s blue eyes and those full pink lips that are fucking _ begging _ to be kissed, and then, out of nowhere, he’ll hear Cas’s voice in his head, sounding so broken he itches to hug him all over again.

_ “I don’t want to hurt you.” _

That should probably be the part where the fear kicks in.

Because as much as he’s freaking loved getting to know Cas, there’s been that annoying little voice in the back of his head reminding him that Cas is gonna drop him without another thought the second he meets his soulmate. In fact, he’s pretty damn sure that’s what Cas wanted to/doesn’t want to talk to him about.

Cas is gonna tell him that he likes him—it’s obvious as hell that he does, and that’s not just his ego talking—and that he’s really sorry, but they can’t be together because he’s waiting for his soulmate. God, seeing Cas’s eyes go all warm and gooey whenever soulmates comes up makes him want to barf, especially when he knows he could make Cas happy if Cas just gave him a chance. _ (That _ may be his ego speaking.) So yeah, forgive him for not wanting to hear those words coming out of the lips he can’t stop thinking about. Call him dumb, call him reckless, call him desperate for human connection, but he’d shut that shit down as fast as he possibly could _ and _ he doesn’t feel bad about it.

It’s just that sometimes, when Cas seems to forget he’s not supposed to, he looks at him with the same too-wide eyes he uses when he talks about his soulmate, and he’s fucking helpless to do anything except for what he thinks will make Cas happiest. So yeah, he offered up the physical touch Cas is _ clearly _ starved for when the guy looked like somebody kicked his puppy. If he secretly cherished every second they cuddled on the couch... well, the only one that’s gonna hurt is himself. 

And half the time, at least, he’s okay with that. 

The rest of the time, he tries his hardest not to think about how much it blew when Cassie left him and convincing himself it’s not the same thing because he and Cas are just friends... who cuddle sometimes... and exchange goodnight and good morning text messages. Nothing fishy about that. Nope. No siree.

So clearly, Dean’s got this all under control.

To be honest, he was so stuck in his own head about everything that’s going on between them that he went over to Sam and Jess’s place Thursday night after work. They razzed him for a bit about what happened at The Roadhouse, then he told them about hanging out with Cas, and Sam and Jess were on him like white on rice. He grabbed a single beer and nursed it while they picked him apart one careful question at a time, and even though he didn’t think they got a whole lot out of him about how conflicted he was feeling, they came to their own conclusions that had been close enough to the truth that he didn’t bother to correct them. 

One thing’s for sure: it hadn’t been any kind of comfort to hear that, apparently, it’s just as obvious that he’s into Cas as it is that Cas is into him.

The only positive spin he could come up with is that Sam and Jess have no idea just how much he likes Cas. They don’t know that he thinks about him all the damn time, and that he’s even started wondering if he should bring up the possibility of dating until Cas finds his soulmate. He hasn’t had sex in a couple of years anyway, so even if Cas wants to wait for his soulmate, he would be okay with that. All he wants is to hold his hand and wake up next to him as often as he can. 

He’s a fucking goner. 

Jess had come up with the idea for him and Cas to hang out as part of a group more often than the two of them alone, thinking that being around other people might help them to keep their distance from each other. Since he literally has no clue what to do with Cas other than cut him out completely or fuck his brains out, he went along with her suggestion.

Which is why he said yes when Sam texted him this morning, suggesting they bring Cas and Jess lunch to Cas’s bookstore today. He knows he’s in deeper shit than he wants to admit when even thinking about Cas looking all nerdy in his bookstore brings a small smile to his face. He’s been thinking about it enough that the people he works with are starting to look at him funny, probably wondering why the parts guy looks so happy all of the sudden. 

Not that he’d ever come right out and say it, but even though it’s only been a couple of days, he sorta misses Cas. He misses the way Cas looks at him like he’s the only thing in the world that matters. He misses being able to make Cas blush with the right smile or a wink, he misses making him smile so big he can see his gums, and a part of him even misses that magnetic _ pull _ he feels towards him. He can’t wait to see him in... less than an hour, he realizes once he checks the clock.

He’s got a couple of parts to track down in the back room to kill time until then, though. He’s sure they don’t have one of them, but the inventory says they do, so he’s gotta check every damn nook and cranny before he can tell his boss it isn’t there. His knees crack when he squats down to scan the numbers on the boxes on the bottom shelf, and he’s reading them outloud to himself when it happens.

_ Where did you come from Cotton-Eye Joe? _ rings through his head as clear as if somebody was standing behind him singing it. He starts humming the tune absentmindedly, still looking for the part, when all of the sudden he wonders why the actual fuck, out of all the songs in the whole damn universe, he’s humming _ Cotton-Eyed Joe? _ He shakes his head as if to clear it and gets back to work... but five minutes later, he curses when he hears himself humming it again. Of all the songs to get stuck in his head, why—

_ Holy fuck! _

He falls back, landing flat on his ass with a muffled sound of pain when he realizes _ he has a song stuck in his head! _ What he’s hearing in his head right now is his soulmate singing! He can hear him! For the first time in his fucking life he knows without a doubt that his soulmate is real, that he’s a man, that he has a god-awful singing voice... and... he’s singing... Cotton-Eyed Joe?

Okay, so his soulmate has fucking terrible taste in music, but at least he exists! 

He has a soulmate!  
  
He’s smiling so big his cheeks actually hurt a little, but he can’t stop because he’s so fucking happy. God, he can’t wait to meet him. He wonders what he’s like, what he looks like, why the hell he’s singing Cotton-Eyed Joe, and why he hasn’t heard him until now. He wonders where he is, what he’s been doing all this time, and if he knows—

Oh god. Oh no. Oh _ fuck. _

If he has a soulmate, that means his soulmate has been hearing him sing this whole time. Every time he writes a song, every time he plays his guitar and sings along, every time he sings his songs over and over and over before a performance.

His face floods with color when he thinks about his soulmate hearing his voice crack and how he’s barely ever been able to get a word out when he’s up on stage, and just like that, the excitement and happiness he had been feeling two minutes ago is buried under so much shame and embarrassment he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to feel it ever again.

His soulmate has heard him sing about how he already loves him more than pie. He’s heard him make fun of the very idea of soulmates, and _ fuck, _ he must have heard him singing “Simple Man” on Wednesday.

His soulmate overheard him serenading another man.

_ Cas. _

His heart cracks a little as soon as he thinks of him, and apparently that’s all it takes for him to finally understand how Cas must’ve been feeling this whole time. Because, yeah, he really wants to meet his soulmate, but still... there’s a part of him that really wants to kiss the ever loving shit out of Cas... to be the one to make Cas’s stomach swoop with the perfect first kiss. He wants to spend his time hanging out with Cas and making Cas blush and smile, not whoever his soulmate is. Honestly, the thought of never having Cas’s head resting on his shoulder again or never learning how their fingers feel slotted together makes his stomach hurt. He doesn't want that. Why did he have to hear his soulmate _ now? _

But then again... hearing his soulmate means that there’s somebody out there who’s supposed to be even better suited for him than Cas is. It’s a hard thought to process, but maybe his soulmate plays guitar or bass or drums or something. Maybe he works at a music store instead of a bookstore like Cas. Hell, maybe he’s a motivational speaker and the whole reason Dean hasn’t been able to sing on stage without looking like a fucking tool is because his soulmate is going to be the one who gives him the confidence to really do it.

Okay, he doesn’t really believe that last part, but the rest could absolutely be true. He won’t have to introduce good music to his soulmate like he does with Cas, he probably won’t have to tell him who sings “Simple Man,” and chances are, his soulmate would’ve gotten the _ Ironic _ joke he made.

Logically, he knows all of these things should make him happy, but for reasons he doesn’t really want to dwell on, he feels a little down about it.

_ “I don’t want to hurt you.” _

_ “Then don’t.” _ _  
_ _  
“It’s not that simple.” _

He gets it now. There ain’t a damn thing about him and Cas that’s simple. The truth is, he kinda _ likes _ the things that he probably shouldn’t when it comes to Cas, like not being able to keep his hands to himself, introducing Cas to new music, and watching him enjoy it for the first time. He doesn’t want to give that up right now—not even for his soulmate.

“Dean?” 

He gets to his feet, wincing a little when he feels how numb his ass is. How long has he been sitting here stuck in his own head? As he sees Sam walk into the storage room, he realizes it’s been almost an hour and he hasn’t found either of the parts he was supposed to. That’ll make this afternoon fun.

“Thought you said you’d meet me out front?” Sam asks him.

“Lost track of time,” Dean explains, slapping any remaining dirt off of his ass from the grungy floor. “I’m good, though.”

Sam gives him a sideways look, but waits until they go out the back to say, “You look weird. Everything okay?”

“I just heard my soulmate,” Dean admits.

Sam looks every bit as shocked as he feels. “Seriously? Dean, that’s great! I’m so happy for you, man. I _ told you _ you had one!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean scoffs, because Sam had said that, but what the hell does Sam know?

Once they get in the car, Dean asks, “Where to?”

“Jess wants Taco Bell.”

“Works for me.”

He pulls out of his parking spot and heads in that direction, purposely keeping his mind blank so he doesn’t linger on thoughts of his soulmate or Cas with Sam in the car.

“I thought you’d be more excited,” Sam comments.

“Dude, you know I love tacos.”

Sam snorts out a laugh. “I meant about your soulmate, airhead.” Dean sticks his tongue out and makes a childish noise along with it. “Why aren’t you?”

“I’m excited,” he insists. “Just letting it sink in or whatever.”

“Uh huh,” Sam replies, not sounding convinced in the least. “I’m sure your lack of excitement has nothing to do with Castiel, right?”

Dean rolls his eyes, thinking that sometimes it’s a real pain in the ass that Sam knows him as well as he does. He’s not about to talk about it though, not this, and definitely not now when it’s all so raw. The last thing he needs is for his soulmate and Sam to become buds someday (and they’re going to, or else this guy wouldn’t be his soulmate) and Sam to let it slip that Dean wasn’t as happy as he should’ve been when he finally heard him because he was too far gone on another guy he’s only known for a week.

“Speaking of, can we not tell him about this today? I’ll tell him, just not until I got my head wrapped around it.”

Sam’s silent for a few seconds, letting Dean know he’s confused by what he just said and that Sam’s trying to work it out in that giant brain of his. “Castiel has his own soulmate, Dean. He’s gonna be happy for you.”

_ Is he? _“Still.”

“It’s your life.” Sam sounds skeptical about it, but that’s as much of an agreement as he’s bound to get, so he nods his head in thanks. “What song was he singing?” 

“Why do you automatically assume it’s a he?” Dean deflects.

Sam laughs, _ hard. _ “Because it’s clearly gonna be a guy.”

“Why?” Dean wonders again. “I’ve dated way more women than men.”

“Yeah, because you turn into a desperate, flustered mess around guys you think are hot.”

“Fuck you,” Dean says lightly. “If I’m such a mess with dudes, my soulmate should be a chick.”

“No, because I can’t imagine you’d settle with a woman if you only get hot and bothered by men.”

“First of all, never say hot and bothered to me ever again,” Dean scolds him. “And second of all, your logic is shit, but you’re actually right.”

“Aha!” Sam exclaims. _ “So, _ what song was he singing?

He thinks of Cas when he says, “For me to know and you to find out.”

“What? That’s not fair! I told you when I heard Jess!” Sam complains.

“Them’s the breaks,” Dean says.

“It was bad, wasn’t it?” Sam asks, already figuring out the bigger issue here. “You don’t wanna tell me because he was singing something you think is stupid. Bad music. Like... like K-pop.”

“I don’t even know what the hell that is.” He pulls into the parking lot of Taco Bell and gets out of the car. “Now cut it out before we go in there so people don’t hear us.”

“Fine, but Jess isn’t gonna give up as easily as I did,” Sam says smugly. 

And unfortunately for Dean, Sam has every reason to be smug because he’s absolutely right. Shaking Sam is no walk in the park, but Jess is as close to a dog with a bone as he can allude to without being very, very sorry for actually comparing her to a dog. She can be downright scary when she’s mad, and he tries his best to even unthink the thought _ dog with a bone _ in case she smells it on him later. 

Hopefully, the big ole box of tacos they buy will be enough to throw her off the scent for the time being. Because he doesn’t know what kind of taco Cas would go for but he and Sam aren’t picky, they just get a couple of everything and hope for the best. There’s no way Cas won’t like _ something _ out of everything they get. With 15 minutes of his lunch hour now gone, they walk down the sidewalk towards One Page At A Time.

It’s downtown, one of the old buildings surrounding The Square, and Dean admires the brickwork as they approach it. It’s not big, that’s for sure. It’s wedged between two other stores, but the etched glass logo helps it to stand out and complements the brick with a fresh, modern look. He can see a couple of armchairs through the glass, some filled with people reading and some empty but looking comfortable and inviting, and he feels an inexplicable burst of pride rush through him as he gets his first look at what Cas has been able to accomplish here.

Since Sam has his hands full with the box of tacos and he only has a tray of drinks, he opens the door for him before he walks through himself. He only distantly hears the jingle of the bell signaling their arrival because he immediately gets swept up in the scent of old books, throwing him head-first into memories of going deep into the stacks on library day at school when he was young. Something in his mind gets jumbled up with memories of Cas, too, on the dance floor and at the movie theater, and he realizes that musky, earthy scent he’d smelled on Cas was this, old books, and his heart thuds forcibly in his chest.

“Excuse me, sir, can I help you find something? You look a little lost.”

Dean’s pulled from his thoughts by Cas’s familiar voice, and he follows the sound to see Cas standing off to the side wearing khaki pants and a button-down shirt in several different shades of blue plaid, with what looks like a black apron overtop adorned with _ One Page at a Time _ on the chest. His hair is just as fucked up as always, lips and cheeks pink, with a soft, friendly smile on his face. 

_ Soulmate who? _

“Well if it isn’t the boss himself,” Dean jokes.

“In the flesh,” Cas returns. “I heard a rumor that a hot guy was delivering lunch.” Despite the way Cas’s voice is light and teasing, he’s pleased by the compliment, right until Cas finishes with, “Have you seen him?”

“Dibs!” Jess calls from the cash register, and Cas laughs as Dean shoots a scowl in his direction. 

“Missed you too, cupcake,” Dean says dryly, which only gets a bigger laugh out of Cas. 

Cas’s voice is more sincere but no less friendly when he speaks again. “Thank you for bringing lunch. Can I take the drinks for you?”

Cas has stepped right into his space, and even though he’s about to turn him down, he enjoys having him there anyway. “Nah, I got it. Just show me where to park ‘em.”

“There’s a few chairs by the front desk,” Cas tells him, his big hand coming up to rest between his shoulder blades. “I thought we could sit there so me or Jess could hop up to help any customers who might be shopping on their lunch.”

“Hopefully you get a few minutes to scarf down a few tacos ‘cause we bought tons.”

“I’m looking forward to it. I don’t even know the last time I ate Taco Bell,” Cas tells him, leading the way to some chairs in front of a big, dark wood desk and cash register.

“Yeah, me neither. I don’t remember if it was Tuesday or Wednesday last week...”

Cas laughs the way he hoped he would, and says, “I guess there are perks of having a giant car after all.”

“You leave my car alone,” Dean says sternly, earning another cheeky smile from Cas. 

“I’m sorry, did you just insult Baby and live to tell the tale?” Jess asks as they approach her and Sam already digging in.

“Dude, you were supposed to let Cas have his pick first since we didn’t know what he liked,” Dean reminds Sam.

Sam has to swallow his mouthful before he can answer. “I left him one of everything.’

“I’m not picky, so don’t worry,” Cas says. Dean gestures for Cas to help himself, but Cas shakes his head. “I’m going to keep my hands clean until Jess is finished.”

“What’re your favorites?” Dean asks. 

“I prefer soft shells, but other than that, anything is fine, really.”

“That works out, since I like ‘em hard anyway.” The words are barely out of his mouth before Sam and Jess both start laughing. “Didn’t mean it like that, but I’m not sayin’ it ain’t true,” he says with a smirk, already leaning over the box to grab a few tacos and a stack of napkins. He takes the seat closest to where Cas is sitting and balances everything carefully in his lap. He puts down a couple of layers of napkins, then grabs for the first taco.

“You might want to tear your eyes away while he eats,” Jess says, and Dean lifts his head to look over at Cas, who apparently had been staring at him. “It can get a little graphic.”

“I don’t mind,” Cas says, though he’s definitely more pink now than he was before he was called out for staring. “It’s better than eating alone.”

“See,” Dean says around a mouth full. “That’s the kinda attitude more people need. Look at the bright side, not my terrible table manners.”  
  
“I wouldn’t say _ terrible,” _ Cas says.

“I would,” Sam disagrees.

“You _ do, _ every damn time I eat something,” Dean reminds him.

“And yet.” Sam gestures towards him and huffs out a laugh.

“Let’s talk about something other than Dean’s eating habits,” Cas jumps in with. “How was your morning?”

Because Cas is the only one being nice and he needs a second to compose himself well enough to lie, he swallows before he replies. “Same as every other day. How about you two?”

“Well, I spent most of the morning with my stomach in knots wondering if Jess was going to come in late and dressed like a hooker after seeing her boss getting so drunk last weekend,” Cas confesses. “But once she got here, everything was fine.”

“And I see you didn’t fire her for the hooker look either,” Dean quips.

Cas’s jaw drops but Jess just flips her hair over her shoulder and says, “Eat your heart out, Winchester.”

Dean laughs and turns to Cas, totally lying through his teeth. “She’s not as scary as she seems, you know. All bark and no bite.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to disagree with that,” Sam says sheepishly.

Cas nods, too. “After this morning, I’m with Sam.”

“Were you really that mad?” Sam asks Jess. Because Dean doesn’t know what they’re talking about, he eats while he listens to try to figure it out. 

“I was pretty pissed,” Jess admits. “Cas got me to laugh though, so you should probably thank him you got off the hook just for filling my craving for Taco Bell.”

And now everything makes sense. _ “That’s _ what this is about? You fuckin’ used me for my car to get outta the doghouse?”

“What, did you think I missed you since last night?” Sam chuckles. “And I bought, so I didn’t _ use _ you.”

He considers that and figures a free lunch is ultimately a win, so he lets it go in favor of bringing up one of his favorite topics ever: what his dumbass brother did to tick off his soulmate this time.

“What’d you do to piss her off?”

Jess has a big enough smile on her face that he knows he’s about to get something really, really good out of her. “He couldn’t stop singing—” 

“—an annoying song,” Sam finishes, talking over Jess. 

Sam begs Jess with a silent look not to tell him, which has Dean perking up immediately. “Yeah? What was he singing?”

“None of your business,” Sam says.

Jess and Cas exchange a look and a laugh, and that’s when he realizes Cas knows, too. “What was it, Cas?”

“Don’t tell him!” Sam butts in.

“You shut your trap,” Dean says quickly, turning back to Cas and hitting him with his most persuasive smile. “Come on, Cas. You know you wanna tell me.” 

When Cas visibly wavers, he adds a tiny pout and watches as Cas’s eyes drop to his mouth predictably. It hits him all of the sudden that because he knows for sure he has a soulmate now, he could meet him literally anytime. He could meet him later on today, which means this right here might be the last chance he has to really flirt with Cas without pissing off his own soulmate. The thought has him upping the ante the tiniest little bit by wetting his lips, and then using the point of his tongue to flick at the corner of his mouth under the guise of reaching for any crumbs he might have missed... all while holding eye contact with Cas.

He can hear Sam huff in disbelief, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of Cas. Nuh uh. Not when Cas is looking at him like he’s thinking about eating him alive. He’s never seen Cas look like this before, eyes blazing and shoulders heaving, legs spread wide and inviting, and _ fuck _ does he look good. Dean wants to throw—okay, maybe carefully place his lunch on the ground—and sink to his knees right between Cas’s spread legs, run his hands up those ridiculously thick thighs and nose at the bulge that would absolutely be there while Cas fumbles to free himself from his pants.

“Uh, some of us are trying to eat, here,” Jess says, effectively breaking the heated moment between him and Cas. 

“Gross,” Sam complains. “This is a book store, man, not the set of some cheesy porno flick.”

“Sir, this a Wendy’s,” Jess jokes, and even though his brain had gotten him a little carried away, he laughs.

“Too bad. Least if it was a porno I’d actually be getting some,” Dean grumbles, ignoring the way his cock is a little chubby just from thinking about sucking Cas off. Cas exhales on a huff of laughter, and Dean watches him look around the store, probably to see if anybody else is around. “Sorry. Forgot you’re at work.”

“This is far from the strangest conversation I’ve had today,” Cas says, looking at Jess and making her giggle. 

“Somebody tell me what he was singing!” Dean complains.

“I’ll tell you when you tell me,” Sam says.

“Tell him what?” Cas asks.  
  
Even though he hadn’t planned on telling Cas, now that it’s come up, he realizes there’s no point in not telling him. He’s gonna find out sooner or later. “I, uh, heard my soulmate this morning.”

Castiel feels like his heart just dropped onto the floor. That doesn’t make any sense. He didn’t sing at all today, not on his run, not in the shower, not on his way into work. Dean couldn’t have heard his soulmate.

“That’s impossible,” he whispers. 

Dean looks confused (and rightfully so, he realizes belatedly) when he looks back at him. “What? Why?”

It isn’t easy to think quickly enough to come up with a believable response while his brain is whirling with the impossibility of what Dean just said. “I... thought you said you didn’t have a soulmate,” he says weakly.

Dean shrugs, looking ashamed and embarrassed, and Castiel can’t understand why. He can’t understand any of this. “I thought I might’ve heard him a time or two before, like a long time ago, you know? But it was always my own songs so I wasn’t sure if what I was hearing was somebody else, or just my own thoughts spinning in my head,” Dean explains, still looking sheepish. “Then I was in the stock room this morning and I—I heard him. Singing a fucking terrible song, but it’s the first time I really knew it was him and not me.”

“Dean, that’s _ amazing!” _ Jess exclaims. “I knew you had one!”

“Yeah, that’s what Sammy said,” Dean says with half a smile. 

Dean’s watching him carefully, like he’s expecting him to have some kind of reaction, which is when he realizes that if he didn’t already know that Dean was his soulmate and there’s no way Dean heard singing this morning, he _ would _ be having some kind of reaction.

“That’s... that’s great, Dean,” he lies. “I’m happy for you.”

Dean doesn’t look all that happy himself when he says, “Thanks, Cas.”

“So what was he singing that was so terrible?” Jess asks. “Techno?”

“I wish,” Dean says emphatically. 

“Still can’t be as bad as what Sam was singing this morning,” Jess jokes.

“Which is why I said I’ll tell him when he tells me,” Sam repeats.

“Seems fair.” Jess crumples up the wrappers from the tacos she’d been eating, and then looks over at Castiel while she works on wiping her fingers off. “All done, boss man. Dig in.”

Of course, now that his stomach is too twisted in knots trying to figure out what’s going on with Dean to be able to eat. Regardless, he doesn’t want to draw any more attention to himself than he already has, so he stands to grab himself a few tacos.

“Hey Cas, can I talk to you for a sec before you dig in?” Dean asks. He sounds nervous, and when Castiel hesitates, he adds, “Be real quick.”

“Yes, of course,” he responds. He turns to Jess and says, “We’ll be in my office.”

“Don’t forget you gotta go soon if you want to make it back to work on time,” Sam tells Dean, and Dean nods but follows Castiel back to his office anyway.

“Your store is awesome, by the way,” Dean says as they walk through it. “Feels like you in here.”

“Thank you, Dean. That means a lot to me.” Pride heats his cheeks, and he still has a soft smile on his face when he closes the door behind them a few seconds later. “What’s up?” he asks, leaning back to half sit on the corner of his desk.

“I just... you seemed sorta... off when you heard about my soulmate this morning, and I mean... I get it. So I just wanted you to know it doesn’t have to change anything.”

Castiel tries his best to keep his expression blank. “Why would it? We’re just friends.”

Dean takes a few steps forward so that his hands rest gently on the outsides of both knees, stealing his breath with a simple touch. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “And I don’t want anything... friendly... between us to change.”

There’s absolutely nothing sexual about somebody touching his outer knee, and Dean specifically said _ friendly, _ and yet Castiel is absolutely sure that friends don’t look at each other the way Dean is currently looking at him. He knows with certainty that he’s never spent as much time looking at a friend’s lips as Dean has at his. He chews his bottom lip nervously, hyper-aware of Dean still watching him, and widens his legs so that Dean has room to step even closer if he wants to. His heart starts hammering in his chest as Dean takes the invitation. With Dean now standing so close he can feel his body heat, Dean’s almost looming over him with his height because of the sitting/standing dynamic, and for reasons he doesn’t quite understand, he finds it incredibly arousing. 

“I get what you meant now,” Dean says. His voice is undeniably lower, and Castiel feels goosebumps pop up along his arms and crawl down his spine. “About not wanting to hurt me and how it’s not so simple not to. I don’t—” He stops, licks his lips nervously. “I don’t want to hurt you either, but I don’t wanna lose you just to get him.”

Castiel’s response is knee-jerk. “You won’t lose me.”

“Promise?” Dean asks, his lips twisting into something that resembles a smile but doesn’t quite hit its mark. 

Beneath the heat flowing like lava through his veins is a fear unlike anything Castiel has ever known. If Dean is hearing somebody in his head that isn’t him, what does that mean for him? Is there some kind of rule he didn’t know about, that if you meet your soulmate and don’t act on the bond between you, you lose it? Is it possible that he screwed things up between them so, so much more than he thought he did? It makes him feel twitchy, uncertain, desperate to... to put some kind of other claim on Dean so that he can make sure nobody else takes him before he’s ready to tell the truth. 

“What song did you hear?” he hears himself ask.

Dean lets out a tiny, exasperated sigh. “You’re not gonna know it anyway.”

“So what’s the harm in telling me then?” he tries, looking innocently up at him.

“Tell me what Sam was singing and I’ll tell you what I heard,” Dean bargains.

“Okay,” he decides. “But you should know that if you tell Sam I told you, I’ll tell Sam what you tell me,” Castiel shoots back. Dean grins, like he’s proud of him for saying that, and nods. “I don’t know who sings it, but it was called Cotton-Eyed Joe.”

Dean’s jaw drops, and he rocks back slightly on his heels. “No fucking way.”

“Pretty awful, right?” Castiel asks.

“Dude, that’s what I heard this morning,” Dean admits, laughing a little. “I heard my soulmate singing Cotton-Eyed Joe. What are the fucking chances?”  
  
Castiel feels relief rush through him like a cold drink on a hot day as the memory of singing with Jess comes back to him. It had only been one line, and he’d been jokingly trying to match her high-pitched singing voice, but he _ did _ sing. Dean heard _ him, _ not somebody else! 

Before he thinks about what he’s doing, he leaps up and wraps his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him in for a tight, excited hug. He feels Dean’s strong arms come around his waist, his nose warm where he buries it on his neck, and the goosebumps from before make a vaillant comeback. Dean drags his nose up to his ear, his breath tickling the short hairs behind it, and Castiel’s next breath escapes him in a tiny moan as heat slams into him like a fist. 

He hears a catch in Dean’s throat and feels his fingers tighten on his lower back for a split second before Dean tilts his hips away and takes a step back. The air between them is so thick Castiel can feel it clogging his throat, making his mouth dry the way only Dean’s ever been able to. 

“That some kind of a pity hug?” Dean asks.

There’s a casual air to Dean’s voice that’s too forced to be genuine. Considering he himself feels like he’s burning with desire, he can understand why. “Yeah,” Castiel lies. “I’m sorry your soulmate is as nerdy as your brother.”

“Fuck my life, right?” Dean laughs, and Castiel just gazes at him fondly. He can’t help it. For a second there, he thought he’d lost Dean, and now that he knows he hasn’t, he wants him more than ever. “Now you know why I don’t want Sam and Jess to know.”

Castiel nods, thinking there’s no chance in hell he’ll be telling Jess about _ this. _ “Your secret is safe with me.”

“You rock,” Dean declares. Then, taking another step back to put more space between them, he says, “I should let you go eat before the food gets cold.”

Feeling his appetite return with a vengeance at the mention of food, he nods eagerly. “As long as you feel better, I am kind of starving.”

Dean hesitates only long enough to check. “We’re good, right? Still friends?”

Castiel wants to laugh over the term, knowing no friend he’s ever had has made him moan with only his breath on his skin, but he settles for aiming his most convincing smile at him instead. “Friends,” he agrees.

He and Dean get a pair of curious looks from Jess and Sam when they return to where they were sitting, but Castiel ignores them in favor of finally having some lunch. Dean knows them both much better than he does, so it seems only fair to let him handle the situation. 

“Did we miss anything exciting?” Dean asks.

“Did we?” Sam parrots.

“We have soulmates,” Dean reminds him blandly.

“Like that would stop you,” Sam snorts.

“It would stop Cas, though,” Dean says. “And this is his store where he’s Jess’s _ boss, _ so maybe keep those kinda comments to yourself.”

Sam looks properly chastised. “Sorry, Castiel. I was really just trying to bug Dean.”

“It’s okay, but we probably should keep things more family friendly while we’re all together and me and/or Jess is working,” Castiel suggests. 

“As somebody currently studying law, I would have to say that’s not a bad idea,” Sam jokes.

“You want a ride back to school or are you hanging out here for a bit?” Dean asks Sam.

“I’ll take a ride back,” Sam says. Then, turning to Jess, “I’ll meet you back here after class?”  
  
“Okay,” Jess nods. 

Sam leans in to give her a kiss goodbye, and Castiel averts his eyes, which makes them land back on Dean. “Thanks again for bringing lunch,” he says. 

“If we didn’t get Jess fired, maybe we can do it again,” Dean offers.

As always, joy spreads inside of him knowing that Dean wants to spend more time with him. “Anytime.”

Sam gets to his feet and says, “See ya later, Castiel.”

“I’ll be here,” Castiel returns. “Bye, Dean.”

“Later, Cas.”

He shamelessly watches Dean walk away as he continues eating his lunch, not looking back at Jess until after the door closes behind them. “Well, back to work, I guess,” Jess says brightly. She stands and starts to walk away to stock the books waiting to be put away, but stops short. “Aw, you forgot to give Dean that book you were totally _ not _ obsessing about earlier.”

Damn it. He was so distracted by the whole soulmate confession he forgot altogether. 

“I’ll give it to him the next time I see him,” he tells her.

“I’m sure it won’t be long,” Jess says, and once again, he looks away to ignore her knowing smile. 

As the day progresses and he dodges several careful but prying questions from Jess about what he and Dean were talking about, a feeling of unease sours his stomach when he realizes how good he’s getting at keeping things from the people he cares about. By the time he’s in bed for the night, he’s come to the conclusion that he needs to get Dean to play for him again, and soon. He can’t build up Dean’s confidence if he doesn’t hear him play, and if he doesn’t build up his confidence, he can’t tell Dean that they’re soulmates and finally, _ finally _ get a taste of the plump lips that haunt his every waking thought.

There’s been residual arousal bubbling just under the surface all day since he and Dean had been in his office, and he can’t help but think about how close they had been to kissing. When he thought Dean heard somebody else, when he thought Dean might not be his anymore, there was a fiery kind of desperation clawing at him, and he’d almost given in and leaned in enough so that Dean would close the distance between them and finally claim his lips. 

A part of him wishes he did.

What would it be like to kiss Dean for the first time? To feel Dean’s lips pressing against his, gently coaxing them open to dip his tongue expertly inside?

Castiel bites back a quiet groan as he feels his body starting to respond to his thoughts. He’s been avoiding touching himself for days, not because he hasn’t wanted to, but because he knew this was the direction his brain would take him. Dean’s all he’s thought about since he met him, and there’s only so much he can take. He’s a relatively young, single man with a soulmate he’s been waiting for his whole life, and now that he finally knows what he looks like, he can’t help but fantasize about him. 

He may be a virgin, but he’s no saint. 

And so, with his heart racing almost as fast as it had been when Dean was standing between his parted legs and gazing down at him like he was something he wanted to devour, Castiel slides his hand down his chest, past his stomach, and over the soft bulge of his growing erection. Just that combined with the memory of how Dean had been looming over him is enough to get his cock filling out rapidly, and he gives up the pretense of teasing himself to snake his hand beneath the elastic band of his pajama bottoms. 

He finds his dick mostly hard already and pulls himself free from his pants, rubbing his palm over his length to get it all the way hard before he wraps his fingers around his dick one at a time. He’s incredibly turned on before he even gets started, and that’s mostly because he’s imagining that his careful touch might be how Dean will touch him for the first time. He can only assume Dean’s touch would feel better than his own, those calloused, talented fingers stroking the length of him with a loose, lazy grip at first, heightened by the weight of Dean’s hard body on top of him. 

He’s already breathing hard with his cock throbbing from how pent up he is, and he squeezes his eyes closed so he can conjure up a clear memory of Dean’s eyes. They’d be a burning, liquid, emerald green as Dean gazes down at him, Dean’s dark pink mouth would be parted with his own heavy breaths, close enough that Castiel could taste the warm huff on his lips. He’d be surrounded by that dizzying masculine scent Dean exudes, hanging in the air between them and settling heavily low in his stomach with every sharp inhale.

Maybe Dean would try to draw it out, only tightening his grip when Castiel’s head is positively spinning with desire. Castiel does so now, cursing the fact that he’s in bed and not in the shower where he could have slickened his grip, but enjoying the dry skin-on-skin friction all the same. He drags his hand up to the crown, rubbing his thumb in small circles over the ridge where his shaft meets the head, biting down on his lower lip to stop an embarrassing sound from sneaking out. 

He imagines Dean leaning down and soothing the bite with a swipe of his tongue and thrusts through the tunnel of his fist for the first time. It feels good, really good, and so he does it again, wondering what kinds of sounds Dean would make while he jerked him off. Would Dean encourage him and tell him how good he looks, or would he curse breathlessly between hot, wet kisses to his lips, his neck, and down his chest?

His free hand makes its way there as he thinks about the possibilities, flicking a thumb over his pebbled nipple and gasping at the added sensation. He imagines one of Dean’s work-roughened hands stroking him from root to tip, getting faster and faster as Castiel increases the needy thrusting of his hips, spurred on by the idea of Dean’s hot mouth sealing around his other nipple, licking, sucking, pulling at it with his teeth.

He can almost hear Dean’s voice in his head as he begins to fall apart: a quiet, rough, breathless sounding, _“__Yeah, Cas. Look so fuckin’ hot like this.” _

“Dean,” Castiel murmurs, surprising himself with how low and scratchy his own voice is. Just saying Dean’s name is enough to have a vision of him spring to mind, his green eyes gone dark behind long lashes and freckles hidden beneath his flushed face. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Dean would be _ so _ gorgeous leaning over him, moving on top of him, pinning him down with his hard muscles.

_ “Oh-hh!” _ The thought surprises a thick spurt of precum out of him, which he gathers in his palm and spreads down his length with a heady moan. He thinks of Dean as his hand and hips start working in tandem. Dean, balancing on the precipice of his own orgasm, driven to the edge just from watching Castiel, from touching and tasting him—a man who looks _ like Dean _ finding pleasure in _ his _ body, _ his _ mind, _ his _ soul the way only Dean ever will—and feels his release begin to build like the beginning of a storm.

He spreads his legs wider, forcing his pajamas down further past his knees, then kicks them away entirely. With his legs open, he knows exactly where Dean would fit, and his breath catches at the idea of Dean, just as naked as he is, filling the space with his tiny waist and golden flesh. Dean’s hard cock would bump and nudge against his, the smooth, soft skin grinding against him desperately before they align just right. He’d feel Dean’s thick, rock hard cock against his for the first time and he’d be overwhelmed and so unbelievably hot that they would start to move together without even having to think about it. Dean’s entire body would stretch out over top of his, leaving Castiel’s hands free to roam and learn the hard planes and soft dips of his soulmate’s body. 

He gets a vivid memory of just how firm Dean’s bicep had felt in his hand without even flexing and groans as he thinks about seeing Dean holding his body up with them, getting an up-close and personal look at his lover’s mouth-watering physique. Dean could hold him down by his hips and rut his gorgeous cock against his own until they’re both sweaty and slippery, mouths seeking each other’s but so lost in pleasure that they only connect on every other attempt. He’d feel Dean’s lips on his skin, on his cheek, his forehead, the bend of his shoulders, and he’d be gripping Dean’s broad back, searching for something to hold onto as his world starts to shatter around him.

His breath feels like it’s stuck in his lungs, his cock is swollen and thick with his arousal, and each and every stroke, every piston of his hips into the curl of his fingers, brings him closer and closer to the edge. The hand on his chest drops between his legs to cradle his testicles, the extra stimulation drawing a low, long moan from his throat. He rolls them in his palm as he continues to fuck his fist, the sex-slickened noises echoing off the walls in harmony with his own heaving pants. The fantasy of Dean whispers sweet nothings into his ear, and combined with the memory of Dean’s nose sliding along his skin and the shiver it produced, he feels his insides clench and his muscles tense. 

He’s close. So, so close, and it feels incredible, but he needs just a little bit more, a little push to get him all the way there. 

Going back to the image of Dean between his legs and the thought of his significant size holding him down, he ventures into new territory and imagines what it might feel like to have Dean _ inside _ of him. His heart bangs like a drum in his chest at the illicit thought, and he slides a tentative finger past his balls, down his perineum, and for the first time ever, lower still. 

The first dry brush of his finger to his anus has sparks shooting up his spine, gathering at the base of his cock, and his jaw hangs open as he tries to drag in breath after breath. It’s sensitive here, and mixed in with the novelty of how he’s never done this and that he’s wishing that it was Dean’s rough finger circling his rim instead of his own, it’s unbelievably hot.

Precum is dribbling over his fingers now, his body is covered in sweat, and all it takes is imagining the thick head of Dean’s cock probing between his asscheeks the same way his finger is to have him locking up. His back arches off the bed as his orgasm rips through him like hell fire. He drives his cock through his fist over and over, spilling over his hand and onto his stomach, repeating Dean’s name with shaky breaths as his toes curl into the bedsheets. He strokes himself through the aftershocks, thinking about how Dean might treat him if he was here. Would he spoil him with gentle touches and soft kisses, or collapse in a heap after he added his own sticky release to Castiel’s?

He smiles weakly, thinking of Dean’s lips brushing his neck where his face would be buried, Dean _ being here _ to warm his skin and fill his empty bed, and his heart aches fiercely for the future he’s putting on hold because of his own choices.

He misses Dean like a limb right now, and he wipes his hands on his ruined bed sheets before reaching for his phone and the connection he craves. 

**CASTIEL: **I miss hearing you sing. **DEAN:** One hit and you’re already addicted?

_Shit. _ He forgot that as far as Dean knows, he’s only heard him sing that one time.

**CASTIEL:** I guess you’re just that good.  
**DEAN:** Flattery will get you everywhere.  
**CASTIEL: **Will you play for me again? Monday maybe?  
**DEAN: **I’ll trade a song for a home cooked meal? 😉  
**CASTIEL:** Two songs and you have yourself a deal 🙃  
**DEAN: **I’m off at 5. I can swing by and pick you up at work?  
**CASTIEL:** I only work until 4:30, but that way I can get a head start on dinner without you distracting me.   
**DEAN: **I’m distracting, huh?  
**CASTIEL:** You have no idea.   
**DEAN:** Kinda like how that sounds, ngl   
**CASTIEL: **I’ll see you Monday, Dean 😊  
**DEAN: **Can’t wait   
**DEAN: **Sweet dreams, Cas. 

Feeling warm and sleepy after his orgasm and his conversation with Dean, Castiel gives himself a half-assed wipe down and falls asleep minutes later. 


	5. Chapter 5

Monday has been a frigging _ crappy _ day. 

It started off with being talked down to like he’s some kind of blockhead because (surprise, surprise) they didn’t have the part the inventory says they have, and then a box of the wrong parts was delivered. He’s got a customer who’s been waiting to get his car back for a fucking week all because of this one part, and even though he ordered the right ones, his boss still chewed his ass out for it when it wasn’t even his fault. To top it all off, he hasn’t gotten a chance to sit all day, and his feet are actually throbbing where they’re trapped in his boots. 

Pretty much the only thing keeping him sane right now is the fact that he doesn’t have to go back to work for another fifteen hours... and maybe because he knows that he’s about to walk into Cas’s place. 

Sure, he had to lie/not mention what he was doing tonight to Sam and Jess since the three of them agreed it was probably best for him and Cas to hang out in group situations until he could get his crush under control, but Cas had asked when there was nobody around at the time to remind him it was a bad idea, so what was he supposed to do? Hell, it’s probably even worse than _ a bad idea _ considering that while he should have been thinking about the confirmation of his soulmate’s existence, the one thing he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about is the sexual tension in Cas’s office on Friday. If somebody told him a month ago that a hug and a quietly muffled moan would get his dick so hard that he would have to take a step back so he didn’t embarrass himself, he would’ve laughed in their face. 

And yet here he is, so fucking gone on Cas already that the self-preservation part of his brain has completely left the building all just so that he can spend more time with him. Even the sound of Cas’s voice coming through the speaker to buzz him inside made him feel a little better about his day, lying to Sam and Jess, and the fact that he’s nervous as hell to play for him again tonight.

He raps his knuckles on the door twice, and almost immediately, Cas is there, pulling the door open, and looking... different.

“Hi,” Cas greets him.

Dean lifts his eyebrows right off the bat. “No, ‘Hello, Dean’?”

Cas cracks a big, gummy smile. “Should we close the door and try again?”

The last thing Dean wants is to be stuck on his feet for another thirty seconds if he can avoid it. “I would, but my feet are fucking killing me,” Dean admits. 

“Well, come on in!” Cas exclaims, gesturing to the living room with a wide sweep of his arm. “Take a load off. Dinner just needs a few more minutes.”

Dean leans his guitar against the wall and unlaces his boots, barely biting back a groan when he gets his feet out of them for the first time in more than nine hours. “Feels better already,” he comments, straightening up. “Smells good in here.”

“I’m glad you think so, or that probably wouldn’t have meant good things for dinner.” Cas steps toward him suddenly, placing his hands on his shoulders and giving them a little rub. “It’s really good to see you.”

The earnestness in Cas’s voice has him shifting from foot to foot with equal parts embarrassment and the urge to kiss him hello like it’s an everyday thing instead of the forbidden fruit.

He manages to get out a mumbled, “You too, man.”

Cas squeezes his shoulders once more, then Dean watches as Cas takes a few steps backwards and basically collapses onto the couch. Cas shifts around until he finds a comfortable spot, then it looks like he fuckin’ melts into it. Cas smiles over at him when he sits on the opposite end, and he wonders if Cas is thinking about how he started this far away the last time he was here and they ended up cuddling anyway. Cas looks really, really relaxed though, and not as pink-cheeked and flustered as what he’s used to, so maybe not.

He’s distracted away from his thoughts by the delicious scent wafting through the air again. After taking a deep breath in, he’s pretty sure he knows what it is. “You cookin’ roast beef?” Dean guesses.

“Close,” Cas sighs, throwing his legs up onto the couch so that his feet—bare feet, apparently—brush Dean’s thigh. “Beef stew and homemade buns.”

“That sounds like a lotta work, man.”

“No, it was nothing,” Cas says, literally waving away his concerns. “I chopped everything before work this morning, and it’s been cooking in the crockpot all day. All I had to do is make the buns when I got home, and they’ll be ready any minute. Do you want a drink while you wait?”

“Nah, I can wait ‘til dinner. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Cas shakes his head. “Nope, and even if there was, I wouldn't let you. It’s nice to have somebody to cook for, and between the two of us, I’m sure you worked harder than I did today.”

“Boring day?” 

“It really was,” Cas replies sluggishly. Maybe he’s tired and that’s why he’s sprawled out like he’s about to take a nap? “That’s okay sometimes though, because it gives me a chance to focus on other things besides the customers.” 

“Like texting me all day?”

Cas laughs with his nose scrunched up and his head bowed, and while his own smile spreads automatically in response to the adorable sight, he still wishes he could put his finger on what’s so different about Cas today. The only thing he can come up with is that he’s _ looser. _ More comfortable in his skin or something, and unfortunately for Dean’s libido, it’s a really good look on him.

Just then, a beeping noise fills the air, and Cas leaps up, saying, “That’s the buns!” Because he’d rather go with Cas than stay in the living room alone, he gets up to follow Cas into the kitchen. Cas has an oven mitt that looks like a lobster claw, and so Dean is smiling when Cas pulls a tray of steaming buns out of the oven. 

He drags in a deep breath through his nose, and says, “Damn, those smell amazing.”

“Bread is my weakness,” Cas admits.

Wondering if he heard him correctly, he questions, “Bread?”

“Oh yeah.” Cas draws that into a low, sultry reply, letting Dean know exactly how much he likes his bread. Cas starts taking the buns off of the pan and places them in a basket. “Especially fresh from the oven. I’d buy a candle that smells like baking bread if there was such a thing.”

He huffs out a laugh. “And people think I’m weird ‘cause of how much I love pie.”

“People like what they like,” Cas says simply. Cas holds the now full basket covered with a cloth napkin and hands it to him. “Can you bring that to the table, please?”

The table Cas mentioned is a tiny little thing he almost missed the first time he was here, nestled into the corner before the kitchen entrance. It only has two chairs, and honestly, he has his doubts all four would fit around it with people in them if they pulled it away from the wall. He puts the basket on the table, noticing now that there’s two deep blue placemats and silverware already set out. He usually eats in his lap sitting on the couch, so it’s nice to see the table set for once. 

“Drinks?” he asks.

“I’m going to have water, but there’s also milk, soda, and grape juice in the fridge. The glasses are there beside the fridge, so just help yourself.”

Since Cas is having water and everything else seems weird to have with stew, he pours them each a glass and carries them out to the table. He comes back with the butter dish Cas has ready, and then they both ladle themselves some stew and meet at the table. They settle in, their knees bumping under the table, and Dean realizes that even though there’s nothing specifically intimate about this meal, there’s no way it won’t feel that way with the two of them sitting so closely.

“Sorry it’s such a tight fit,” Cas tells him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean says. “I don’t even have a freaking table at my place.”

“Really?” Dean confirms with a nod of his head, blowing at the steaming bite of beef and potato he has on his spoon. “Where do you eat?”

“There’s a little counter space with a couple of stools, but uh, mostly just balanced in my lap watching TV,” he says, knowing and hating how pathetic it sounds. “So obviously, no complaints about the small table.”

“Hopefully you feel the same about the food.”

He takes that opportunity to spoon his first bite into his mouth. It’s still hot, but the moment the stew hits his tongue, his taste buds explode with flavor. He nods as he chews, then as soon as he can manage it, he says, “Holy crap, Cas. This is awesome!”

Cas smiles genuinely, seeming pleased by the news. “You sound surprised.”

He shrugs a shoulder, explaining, “You never really know when people cook for you the first time. Like Jess,” he says, pointing a spoon at Cas to get his point across. “She looks capable enough, even has the whole frilly apron thing going on when she cooks, but jesus. I’m _ far _ from picky and I can hardly choke most of it down.”

Cas is working on cutting a bun in half with a knife, and flicks his eyes up to Dean’s through his eyelashes, hitting him with a wicked smile. “I’m going to tell her you said that.”

Den huffs out a surprised laugh. “Well, it was nice knowing you, then.”

Cas laughs with him. “I thought you said she was all bark and no bite?”

“Lied through my teeth,” he admits, and Cas chuckles quietly as he spreads butter onto his bun. “The only thing she _ can _ make is pie, and she does a damn good job of it, which is why I haven’t tried to convince Sammy to kick her to the curb,” he jokes. Cas laughs, and he continues, “Point is, I’m glad you can cook, ‘cause that means I can take turns mooching off of you _ and _ Sam when Jess has night classes.”

“Wait. If I’m going to cook, how exactly do you pitch in?”

“Thought I was providing the entertainment,” Dean reminds him.

Cas perks up immediately. “I can’t believe I forgot about that. Do you know what you’re going to play?”

“Yeah.” Dean grabs for a bun himself, then splits it open with his bare hands. “If I don’t chicken out.”

“No pressure,” Cas tells him. Cas’s hand reaches out to rest on his forearm for a second, offering him a world of comfort with a touch of his hand before he takes it back to continue eating. “I don’t want you to play anything you’re not comfortable playing. I just love watching you.”

Dean grins despite the nerves that are beginning to swirl in his stomach. “Most people say listening, y’know.”

“Well most people don’t have you playing for them.”

Because that sounds suspiciously like flirting, Dean deliberately keeps his eyes on the knife currently buttering his bun so he doesn’t do something stupid like flirt back. _ Friends, _ he reminds himself for the millionth time. “You really lucked out in the friend department.”

“I know,” Cas says with a soft smile. “How’s the bun?” Dean takes a big bite while Cas does the same, and he shoots Cas a thumbs up. Cas agrees with a hum of his own, and once Cas has swallowed his (much smaller) bite, he asks Dean,

“So how was your day?”

That gets him started on all of the complaints about his day, and unlike Sam who tries to put a positive spin on pretty much everything, Cas just listens patiently, occasionally throwing in a, “That’s not fair!” or “That wasn’t even your fault!” He’s kinda floored that even though bitching to Cas doesn’t solve a damn thing, having somebody care enough to even listen to him gripe about a bad day actually really helps.

He tries to put that into words, fumbling through it like an idiot the same way he does anytime he tries to talk about feelings, but Cas puts him at ease all over again with his kind eyes and a lighthearted joke.

“Maybe it’s all the carbs.”

That makes him laugh, a low belly laugh that has a smile lingering on his lips for a long time. “You would know. What bun is that for you? Three? Four?”

“Are you calling me fat?” Cas deadpans. He waits to catch Cas’s eye to make sure Cas is looking before he rolls his eyes dramatically, and that’s when he notices that Cas’s eyes look different. 

The bright blue is taken up by way too much black pupil. It isn’t well-lit in the corner or anything, but he still doesn’t think Cas’s pupils would be dilated _ that much _ just because of low light. He keeps staring into Cas’s eyes, caught up in that weird stretch of heated eye contact they fall into every now and then, except instead of thinking about how much he’d like to rip Cas’s clothes off like he usually is, this time he’s thinking about how laid back Cas has been tonight. Combined with his heavy lids and how he keeps cramming food into his mouth...?

“Dude, are you _ high?” _

And _ there’s _ those pink cheeks that have been missing since he got here. “Maybe a little.”

Dean’s jaw legitimately drops. He never would’ve pegged Cas as somebody who indulges in the devil’s lettuce. “Wow,” he laughs breathlessly, looking at him completely differently now. “I never would’ve guessed that you smoke.”

“I don’t,” Cas says. “Just some oil. A couple of drops under my tongue, all the benefits, and nothing polluting my lungs.” _ Polluting his lungs? _ Now _ that _ sounds like Cas. “And I don’t do it all the time, just when I’m nervous or need to relax.” 

“I’m not judging you,” Dean says quickly. “Hell, I’d be asking to join in if there weren’t random drug tests at work. I’m just surprised, I guess.”

Cas tilts his head questioningly. “Did my drunken behavior the night we met make you think I was an upstanding citizen or something?”

He snickers, but after hearing Cas point that out, he wonders what it was that made him think that getting high would be weird for Cas. “That’s a good point. I dunno. Guess I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

“We’ve only known each other a little over a week.”

For some reason, that feels like a kick to the nuts, and he has to drop his gaze so that Cas doesn’t see his reaction. How has it only been ten days? Logically, he guesses he knows that Cas hasn’t been in his life all that long, but when they’re together it feels like they’ve been friends for years, like they’ve been hanging out for as long as he can remember, like it was always like this.

“Hard to believe sometimes, isn’t it?” Cas asks him quietly.

“Kinda freaky,” Dean admits, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t think I’ve ever clicked with someone like this before.” He lifts his eyes back up to where Cas is watching him with a guarded expression. “Doesn’t it make you curious?”

“Curious about what?”

“Soulmates.” Like he suspected, Cas’s body language closes off almost instantly, but he’s tired of dancing around this with Cas. If anybody can understand how he feels about all of this, it should be Cas. For once in his fucking life, he doesn’t _ want _ to go through something alone, and he will drag Cas into this conversation kicking and screaming if he has to. 

Before he can say anything else, Cas balls up his linen napkin and pushes to his feet. “Let me just clear the table and then we can sit and talk where we’re more comfortable.”

He knows there’s a good chance this is Cas’s attempt at dodging the topic altogether, but since he also knows he’s not about to let this go, he agrees to help. It only takes a few minutes to bring the bowls and silverware into the kitchen, then Dean wipes down the table while Cas loads the dishwasher and packs two bowls of leftovers. 

“You can take this one with you when you go home. There’s probably at least two servings in there, so you can separate and freeze them if you want. They reheat well; I recommend the stovetop but the microwave works, too.”

He can’t wipe the jaw-achingly huge smile off of his face, because Cas is really standing in the kitchen, high, packing him leftovers to take home in a brand name Tupperware container, and giving him reheating instructions like it isn’t the cutest thing he’s ever seen in his frickin’ life. 

“Can I hug you?” 

It comes out in a rush, probably because even his hindbrain knows those are some of the most embarrassing words he can remember saying to Cas out loud. 

Except instead of looking wary or shy or awkward, Cas lights up at the suggestion. “You don’t have to ask to hug me, Dean. The answer will always be yes.”

“Awesome,” he breathes, stepping forward to pull Cas into his arms. 

Cas comes right into his space, their chests pressed snugly together, and Dean has to fight back a quiet, content sigh he feels all the way down to his toes when Cas hooks his chin over his shoulder. He takes the opportunity to turn his head slightly so that he can get a whiff of old books and that sweet smell that just screams _ Cas, _ and as he breathes it in, feeling like everything is suddenly right in the world, he wonders how long they can stand here without saying anything before it gets weird. 

Cas squeezes him nice and tight for just a moment before he lets him go, and Dean has to stuff his hands into his pockets to stop from following the unbelievably strong instinct to let them drift down Cas’s arms until they link their fingers together.

“Let’s go sit outside,” Cas suggests. He nods his consent, and the two of them walk through the living room and out the patio door. The outside space isn’t big by a long shot, but there’s a cozy-looking wicker loveseat with two plush cushions they settle onto, and once they sit, Dean realizes Cas has one hell of a view.

Like the small table, the seating here once again forces them to sit close together. Even though it’s hot as balls out here, Dean doesn’t mind the warmth of Cas’s thigh against his, but it makes him think that when Cas inevitably meets his soulmate, the two of them will sit here just like this. Closely. Except Cas’s soulmate will probably be able to put his arm around Cas and hold him even closer than he gets to, and he feels jealousy rip through him like lightning at the thought.

“You got tense all of the sudden,” Cas comments.

“Not all of us can get high to relax,” Dean shoots back. His voice comes out harder than he meant it to, and it’s fucking ridiculous and unfair to be mad at Cas for having a soulmate waiting for him when he has one himself, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling it.

Instead of asking him what’s wrong or trying to comfort him, Cas straightens his arm out and lays it across the back of the loveseat. “I like it out here,” Cas announces. He points down to the ground where there are people walking by; some couples, some families, plenty of people walking around by themselves. “I like to people watch and come up with elaborate stories for where these people are going, how they know each other, if they’re running late or are going to show up early.” When Dean’s about to ask what the hell that has to do with anything, Cas finishes, “Sometimes I bring a book out here to read so that I can hear the sounds of the city moving around me. It makes me feel less alone than sitting in my apartment by myself all the time.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say, so he bobs his head and makes an affirmative sound in his throat.

“My friends before you were nice people and I miss them sometimes, but our friendships were more superficial, I think. We would go grab dinner as a group or have some drinks, and the conversation would be easy and fun, but we wouldn’t talk about anything that really mattered.” Cas turns to look at him, and a smile spreads on those pink lips before he keeps going. “With you, it’s the complete opposite. It’s almost like we can’t stop from diving head-first into these heavy conversations that leave me feeling emotionally raw when we’re together.” Something uncomfortable squirms in his stomach, and he isn’t sure if he should apologize or deny it or try to explain it. “Maybe that’s why it feels like we’ve known each other for longer than a week. You already know me a hell of a lot better than the people I was friends with all through college.”

“Maybe,” Dean answers, finally catching on that Cas was bringing them back to what he wanted to talk about in the kitchen all along. “Sam and Jess kept looking at me like I had three heads when they found out all the shit we’ve been talking about.”

“You mentioned before that it isn’t in character for you.”

“You have no idea,” he says through a laugh. “I just—I feel like you get it more than anybody else would.”

“Get what?”

_ Me. Us. _ That thought has him second guessing himself. Maybe Cas _ doesn’t _ get it, and he’ll feel and look like a fucking moron if he spills. “Everything. I dunno. Nevermind.”

“Are we circling back to soulmates here?” He feels his chest tighten and his palms start sweating. “I thought you’d be happy since you heard him. It sounded like that’s what you wanted when we were talking at the movies.”

“It was. Is,” he corrects. Then he slumps back in his seat. “Clearly, I’ve got it all figured out.”

“Dean,” Cas says softly, sounding sad. “How can I help?”

He takes a deep breath, a sigh more than anything, and works at freeing a little bit of grease out from beneath his fingernails that will never really come clean anyway. “What if we didn’t have soulmates?”

“What do you mean?” Cas asks.

“What if we met at The Roadhouse and we didn’t have soulmates? What would’ve happened?”

Cas chuckles quietly, letting him know he thinks the answer is every bit as obvious as he thinks it is. Then Cas stops and tilts his head to the side curiously. “It’s funny because my first thought was that it seemed pretty clear where the night would’ve went, but now I’m wondering if it wasn’t for my soulmate, if I would be the kind of person who goes home with somebody I just met at the bar.”

Dean snorts a laugh, too. “I have a feeling you’d have some mileage on you.”

“Yeah?” Cas asks, sounding weirdly pleased by the idea. “It’s hard to even imagine who I would’ve slept with before you. I’ve never even really _ liked _ anybody else.”

_ That _ does things to his insides—like turns them into molten lava and fills his brain with incredibly vivid pictures of he and Cas sharing their first kiss on the dance floor, of dancing together the way they did that first night but with their lips slotted together this time, of sharing more passionate kisses in the back of a Lyft and barely making it up the elevator with all of their clothes still on until they finally stumble into Cas’s bedroom and have clumsy, slow, amazing first-time-sex—and he shifts in his seat trying not to let those thoughts go straight to his dick.

He attempts to lighten the air between them with a joke and nudges Cas with his elbow. “Don’t worry, I woulda taken good care of you for your first time.”

“I know you would,” Cas says softly. 

Dean smiles sadly at that, trying to act like it doesn’t hurt to know he’ll never have the chance. “Y’know, I haven’t even tried to get laid since that shit went down with Cassie.”

“Why is that?” Cas asks. “I know she hurt you, but the options must be endless for you. You could have anybody.” 

That keeps the lava in his veins running nice and warm, and coaxes him to open up a little more. “It’s dumb because one part of me knew all along it wasn’t my fault and she was gonna leave anybody no matter who she was with as soon as she met her soulmate, but the other part of me kept thinking that if I’d just been a better boyfriend, maybe she would’ve at least had to think about it before she bailed and never looked back.”

“Dean,” Cas whispers, dropping his arm from the back of the seat to wrap it around his shoulders. “She shouldn’t have treated you like that, even if she did just find her soulmate. Your worth doesn’t depend on being somebody’s soulmate, it comes from who you are, and you’re _ such _ a good man. The best I know. What she did wasn’t fair to you.”

“It wasn’t,” he agrees. “But the reason it’s dumb—what’s really fucked up—is because as much as I second-guessed myself with her and didn’t wanna be with anybody else because of it, I’m already so fucking sure I could be good for you, Cas. And you won’t even give me a chance.”

There’s a single beat of silence so loaded he feels it like an elephant sitting on his chest.

“Dean—”

“No,” Dean interrupts, needing to get this out now that he has the chance. “Don’t tell me you have a soulmate and that I have one, too.” He doesn’t know if he’s more upset at the idea of Cas turning him down or at the possibility of never saying what’s been on his mind since that first drunken night together. “I _ know _ that, but where are they, huh?” he challenges. “Because me and you? We’re right here, right now, and you—you can’t tell me you don’t feel what I feel. You can’t tell me that we wouldn’t make each other happy, Cas.” 

Cas opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but closes it again without saying a word or even making a sound. Just like that, that one aborted attempt makes him second guess everything he just said. He sounds fucking _ crazy _ and he knows that and he still can’t shut the hell up. 

“Unless...” Dean laughs humorlessly. “Unless you really don’t think so, and then... well, I guess I want you to tell me,” he decides. “Tell me I’m crazy and this—this _ thing _ between us is all in my head and you’ve never thought about me the way I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You’re not crazy,” Cas whispers, his big blue eyes looking wide and haunted. “I think about you all the time. You have no idea how often I’m thinking of you, Dean. And you _ do _ make me happy. I’ve been happier since I met you than I think I ever have been, but—”

That one word has his vision turning red. “But I’m not him. Yeah, I got it,” he spits bitterly, sitting up and shaking the arm Cas still had draped around him off entirely. “I’ve heard this before.”

“It’s not the same,” Cas implores him. 

“Yeah, ‘cause this time you haven’t met the guy you’re ditching me for.”

“No, the difference is that I’m not ditching you at all,” Cas argues. “And I won’t ditch you. Ever. I want you in my life, and not just until somebody else comes along. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Logically, he knows that should help soothe the indescribable ache in his chest, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t even a little bit. “You just don’t want me the same way I want you.”

“I never said that. I just can’t... right now.” The second the words leave his mouth Cas looks like he wishes he never said them, but Dean latches on to them like a lifeline.

“Right now?” Dean repeats, his heart filling with hope from those two little words. 

Cas looks away, like he’s trying to decide something internally. Eventually, Cas nods. “Yes.”

_ That _ floors him. Does Cas even know what he’s saying? Because that doesn’t make any sense with everything he thought he knew about Cas.

“‘Right now’ kinda implies things might be different at another time,” he tells Cas. 

And this time, when Cas looks back at him, he smiles. Cas _ smiles _ one of those soft smiles that he saves just for him, right before Cas reaches out and cups his cheek, and son of a bitch does his heart flutter like he’s in a fucking romance novel. 

“I’m aware,” Cas replies with a quirk of his lips. “I know this doesn’t make sense to you right now, and there aren’t enough words to tell you how sorry I am if I’m causing you any additional pain from being vague, but if you just trust me... I hope we can both get what we want here.”

“I want _ you,” _ he confesses. 

“I want you too,” Cas echoes. _ Jesus christ, _ he thinks his heart might burst just from hearing Cas finally say that. “Maybe I should have told you before?" Cas questions. "I don’t know. I was so worried about leading you on that I never considered you might think that I don’t feel the way you feel.”

“You don’t,” Dean says, absolutely sure of that if he’s sure of anything. “You can’t.” Because if Cas did, there wouldn’t be anything that could them apart.

Cas’s eyes go all big and soft again. “If you got to choose your soulmate, Dean, I would choose you. Exactly as you are. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

It’s fucking weak, but he nuzzles into Cas’s palm anyway. He looks him straight in the eyes, seeing the confirmation he needs that Cas _ does _ like him as much as he likes Cas, and even though he knows nothing’s changed since the last time they talked about this, he goes for it anyway. “Then be with me. I don’t care if we don’t have sex or if you wanna keep things above the belt. I can do that. I can do whatever you’re comfortable with. Just let me kiss you and fall asleep—”

Cas moves the thumb that’s resting on Dean’s cheek to place it over his lips to stop him, and he stops without complaint because now that he isn’t talking, it’s all too easy to see the pain in Cas’s eyes. It hurts to just look at him. 

“Please,” Cas whispers. “Please don’t make me say no to you again. I know how much it hurts you and that’s the last thing in the world I want to do.”

Because the truth is written all over Cas’s face and the last thing _ he _ wants is to hurt Cas, he swallows down the pain of knowing that Cas _ would _refuse him even if Cas didn’t let him give Cas the chance, and nods. Cas slides his hand off of his face and lets it fall into his lap, where their hands clutch at each other’s not unlike holding hands, but not quite there either. 

“Could always try sayin’ yes,” he jokes, mustering up a half smile he doesn’t really feel. 

Cas laughs the way he wanted him to. “This conversation is reminding me a lot of the texts you sent me that first night when you were drunk.”

“Can’t use the ‘you’re drunk’ excuse this time though,” Dean points out. “You’re gonna have to come up with a new one.”

“They were never excuses,” Cas says, serious now. Dean lifts his eyebrows as if to say, ‘Yeah, sure,’ and if it’s possible, Cas moves even closer. Dean shifts so they fit together better, cautiously putting his arm around Cas, and when Cas leans back and rests his head on his shoulder, he wonders if Cas has any idea this is exactly what he was trying to ask for before. “If you still want me after I tell you what I’m keeping from you, we can talk about it again.”

_ After I tell you what I’m keeping from you. _

He should probably be scared, but he’s too busy enjoying just how good it feels to be here with Cas to worry about that right now. He turns his head towards him so he can get a whiff of Cas’s sweet-smelling shampoo, and says the first thing that comes to mind. “You know you can tell me anything, right? Even if you’ve got a glass cage in the basement of your bookstore, we can work it out,” he jokes.

“A glass cage?” 

“Yeah, from You?”

“From me?” Cas echoes, clearly confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but my bookstore doesn’t have a glass cage. We don’t even have a basement.”

Dean drops his forehead to Cas’s temple and lets the low laugh roll out of him. “I wish I knew why hearing you say shit like that makes me like you so much.”

“I wish I knew what the hell you were talking about,” Cas grumbles, and Dean only smiles wider. Cas is cute when he’s grumpy.

“There’s a show on Netflix called You. The main character works in a bookstore, and he kidnaps people and keeps them in a glass cage in the basement of the store until he murders them, all in the name of protecting a girl he falls for.”

“And you thought we could work through something like that?” Cas laughs. “I take back what I said before: you are crazy.”

Dean grins, feeling at ease again. “Crazy enough that even though I don’t wanna move ever again, I should probably remind you I owe you two songs.”

Cas sits up immediately, smiling wide as Dean’s hand falls off of his shoulder and slides down to his lower back. “That’s right, you do!”

Dean shakes his head, wondering how just listening to him makes Cas look so happy. “Let’s go back inside, then. There’s no way I’m playin’ out here where other people can hear me.”

“Might be something to work up to, though,” Cas suggests, slowly getting to his feet. “Where people can’t see you but you know they can hear you.”

He considers that and nods. “That ain’t a bad idea.”

They walk the few steps from the tiny balcony back into the living room, and Dean grabs his guitar from where he left it leaning against the wall when he came in before he sits on the edge of what he’s already come to think of as his seat on the couch. He takes his guitar out of the case and digs into his pocket for a pick, then runs it over the strings to make sure it’s in tune and all the strings are nice and tight. 

“So, this is one of my songs. I wrote it after me and Cassie broke up, but I’ve been thinking about it recently, and I, uh—” He stops, shakes his head at himself. “I’m pretty sure you’ll get why when you hear it. I changed a few words and it just... fit.” He starts looping the intro and shoots Cas a cocky grin he doesn’t feel at all. “I’ve never played this one for anybody before, so I guess it’s like a Dean Winchester exclusive.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” Cas says.

Considering the only reason he even thought about playing this for Cas is because he thinks there’s a good chance, he nods and really starts playing. “It’s called Stay.”

The song starts off soft and quiet, telling the story of what it feels like to be heartbroken and drowning in it, desperately promising to stay with the person who broke his heart if they gave him a chance. The song gradually builds as he pours his heart out through the lyrics, which turn into long, strong notes halfway through he has to strum hard to match the intensity of.

The song tapers off and ends so quietly his voice is almost a whisper when he sings the final lyrics that are simply, “I will stay.” He has to blink moisture out of his eyes the same way he does every time he sings this song, except this time he has an audience for the first time. 

“That was beautiful,” Cas says breathlessly. “Heart-breaking but powerful at the same time. What were you thinking when you wrote it?”

Dean lets air fill his cheeks before he blows it out. What a loaded question. “I guess it kinda started out as me begging her to pick me, even though I knew I’d never play it for her. Just because she had a soulmate didn’t mean we couldn’t work out. I wanted to tell her that even if it was messy and hard and she had doubts sometimes, I still would’ve stayed.” He plucks absentmindedly at the strings while he talks, just filling the silence between his words. “I figured it would be something other people could relate to. I can’t be the only one who keeps falling for people who’re already spoken for, right?”

“You’re not,” Cas says. The casual confirmation makes his heart leap in his chest. “Do you usually write sad songs?”

Dean shrugs. “Mostly, yeah. Not like I’ve had a lot of happy, you know?”

Cas looks almost unbearably sad before his expression turns into something more determined. “We should change that.”

“You can rewrite history?”

“Ha ha,” Cas says sarcastically, making him grin. “No. I meant we should do something fun, something that would make you happy.”

Dean grins wolfishly. “I can think of a couple things that we wouldn’t even have to leave the couch for.”

Cas rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that he takes as a win. “If you mean playing another song, that would make _ me _ happy.”

“Yeah, that’s totally what I meant,” he lies, but he’s not about to back out of their deal of two songs. “Do you know any Tom Petty?”

“I’ve heard of him,” Cas says.

Dean fakes a look of surprise. “Wow, Cas, I’m impressed.” Cas just shakes his head gently, letting him know Cas is onto him being disingenuous. “This is called Free Fallin’, and it’s one of the first songs I learned how to play.”

As soon as he starts, Cas lights up. “I’ve heard this before.”

“Hey, whaddya know?” 

It’s actually kinda funny, because as much as Cas had joked about Dean playing being something fun for him, watching Cas mouth along to the words of the chorus while he sings turns out to be more fun than he was expecting. They’re both pink-cheeked from their huge smiles and laughter by the time he starts playing the choruses of other well-known songs like Hey Jude, Stand By Me, Summer of ‘69. He even plays I Want It That Way, trying to coax Cas into singing with him, but the most Cas will do is lip sync a word here or there. Either way, it is kind of fun being so silly with Cas, and it’s a great distraction away from what they were talking about earlier.

It’s almost eight when he starts to wonder if he should offer to leave in case Cas has other stuff to do that night, but Cas beats him to it when he asks, “I know it’s a work night, but would you like to stay and watch an episode of that show you were telling me about?”

“You?” Dean asks.

Cas can barely fight back a smile when he replies, “Yes, I’d like that. That’s why I asked.”

“Good one,” he says sarcastically, but the truth is, a smiling, joking Cas might be his favorite kind. “It’s sorta a thriller. Are you gonna trip out if we watch something like that when your pupils are as big as saucers?”

“No, it’s not that kind of high for me. It just relaxes me and makes me want to wrap myself up in a blanket burrito.” Dean nods, understanding that, and Cas adds, “Besides, you mostly killed my buzz outside anyway.”

He grimaces apologetically. “Sorry. You could always take another hit if you wanted to.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Do what you wanna do,” Dean tells him. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

Dean packs away his guitar and goes to get himself a soda from the fridge, and by the time he sits back down, Cas is ready to join him again. It might be because he’s expecting it, but he thinks he can smell a little bit of weed on Cas’s breath when he sits next to him on the couch, and for the first time in a long time, he actually misses smoking. 

Cas turns on Netflix, Dean barely resists making a Netflix and chill joke that would probably go over Cas’s head anyway, and the two of them settle into a comfortable silence while they watch Joe Goldberg spiral into his obsession with Beck. Like the first time he was here, they slowly gravitate towards each other and meet in the middle of the couch, and by the time the second episode starts, they’re sitting so close to one another that they’re pressed together from shoulder to knee. Thinking of when they were outside and how Cas said he likes being wrapped up like a burrito when he’s high, he takes a chance and moves his arm to the back of the couch. Like he hoped, Cas snuggles right into the nook between his shoulder and neck and even lets out the cutest little happy sound he’s ever heard when he drops the pretense along with his arm around Cas’s shoulders for real. 

Even though Cas’s body language is telling him he’s into this, he still asks, “Is this okay?”

“Snuggling between friends?” Cas asks, and Dean rolls his eyes even though Cas can’t see him. “It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you.”

Cas’s hand winds up on Dean’s knee, and it’s like he’s a goddamn teenager with how he can’t stop thinking about how much he wants Cas to slide his hand up about a foot and a few inches to the middle. God, Cas has nice hands. Big and warm, well-manicured fingernails, and nice, thick fingers. He can think of a lot of things he’d like to do with those fingers, and almost all of them involve either his mouth or a lot less clothes between them.

Watching Beck and her ex go at it on-screen with Cas’s body pressed so closely into his doesn’t help the situation (why didn’t he think of that before he agreed to watch this?) and neither does the way his dick plumps up eagerly. He’s thankful for the fly of his jeans for hiding the worst of the problem, but no matter how much he tries to talk his dick down even after the sex scenes are over, it refuses to wilt. Which means he’s sitting on the couch with a hot guy all up in his space while he’s half-hard, and all he can think about is how it’s been _ way too long _ since this has happened to him. 

He doesn’t even notice that the second episode has ended until Cas’s voice gets his attention. “Do you want to watch another one or call it a night?”

What he _ wants _ to do is gently push Cas down onto the couch on his back, climb on top of him, and finally seal their lips together while he buries his hands in Cas’s hair, but that right there should probably be a big enough clue that he should end the night now. “I wanna stay but I should probably head home.”

“I want you to stay too, but I’m kind of glad you said that,” Cas admits. “Six AM comes early sometimes.”

“Six AM? The fuck you wake up that early for?”

“Running,” Cas says. Dean makes gagging noises, which has Cas smiling through his quiet laughter. “No running for you?”

“Only if something is chasing me _ and _I think I can out-run them, otherwise, what's the point?”

Cas laughs again, and while Dean’s expecting him to sit up so he can get up, he doesn’t. “I’m too comfortable to move.”

How’s he supposed to resist _ that? _“I could stay for one more episode if you want.”

“No, I’ll probably just end up falling asleep on you if you do.”

Dean pauses after thinking about that, and offers again. “I could stay for one more episode if you want.”

That has Cas snickering, and sadly, sitting up. His usually crazy hair is flat on one side where it was pressed against Dean’s shoulder and Dean’s lips twist into a smile at the sight. “Thanks for coming over.” 

“Anytime,” he says, meaning it sincerely. “Thanks for cooking.”

“Anytime,” Cas says back. “Oh! I almost forgot again.” Cas hits him with a slow, unbelievably soft smile he’s sure he’s never seen before, then leans over to rifle for something beside the couch. The movement has the hem of Cas’s shirt riding up, and Dean is nowhere near gentlemanly enough to tear his eyes away as a long strip of tanned skin is revealed, along with one of those hip bone indent things he desperately wants to run his tongue over. Cas must be more in shape than he thought he was. He always figured Cas was sorta soft and gangly under those button-downs, but now that he knows he runs, he’s curious what he really looks like. “I bought you something.”

“Dinner and a gift?” Dean asks. “Is there a special occasion I’m forgetting?”

Cas laughs at that with his nose scrunched up and his head bowed, and his own smile spreads automatically in response to the adorable sight. “Here.” Cas holds out a stack of three books. “I got these for you.”

He takes them with a tiny smile, already pleased before he reads the title, knowing that Cas was thinking about him enough to remember to get him a book like they talked about. Well, three books, but still. 

“Wool, Shift, and Dust?” he asks as he flips through them.

“It’s a series by Hugh Howey, and since I know from experience you’ll want to dig into the second one as soon as you finish the first, I figured I’d get all three.”

“There gonna be a test after?” Dean quips.

“Yes, so read carefully,” Cas teases back. “It’s a story set in a dystopian world, where the only remaining humans on earth live in a silo underground with one big screen on the top level showing the outside world. If you break the rules, you get sent outside in a hazmat suit to clean the camera that films it so everybody else can see better, but unfortunately, nobody lives long enough to make it back inside once they go out. In fact, everybody who goes outside seems really preoccupied with what’s on the other side of the hill...”

And just like that, he’s curious. “And? What is it?”

“Let me know when you find out,” Cas replies, and Dean’s gotta give it to him, he hasn’t wanted to read a book this bad in a while.

“I was expecting something more like War And Peace from a book nerd like you.”

Cas laughs lightly. “My job is to sell books, Dean. Suggesting books that are fun to read, that make people want to read more, is kind of my specialty. While there are benefits to reading something like War and Peace, that isn’t how I’d try to get somebody to come back.”

Dean smirks. “So you’re tellin’ me you want me to come back?”

“Yes.”

Dean’s smile widens. “Shoulda kept the other two books, then.”

Cas narrows his eyes as he seems to consider that. “You make an excellent point. I’ll take two back.”

Cas holds out his hand like he expects Dean to give them back without a fight, but Dean shakes his head. “No way, Jose. You gave ‘em to me.”

“And now I’m taking them back,” Cas says, reaching for them.

Dean pulls them out of his range with a laugh. “Excuse you. Manners!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, chipmunk cheeks,” Cas teases. Dean huffs an insulted breath, and Cas lunges for the books again.

Dean holds them up over his head with the arm furthest away from Cas so Cas can’t reach them, trying to hold in his laughter at how ridiculous this is. “Is this the way you treat all of your customers?”

_ “Technically _ you didn’t buy anything, so you’re not my customer,” Cas reminds him. “Aha!” Dean’s confused by the sound of triumph until Cas tries to tickle his ribs, which doesn’t work because he’s not ticklish there. 

“Aw, shucks, just when you thought you had it,” Dean says, and Cas surprises the ever loving shit out of him by swinging his leg over his lap and reaching up with both hands to grab the books out of his hands. His mouth runs completely dry when Cas’s shirt lifts up and he gets an up-close-and-personal look at a dark trail of hair running from Cas’s belly button down beneath his jeans, and it sure as hell doesn’t get any better when Cas settles into his lap as if straddling him isn’t making every ounce of Dean’s blood charge directly to his dick at break-neck speed.

Their eyes catch and the laughter dancing in Cas’s eyes dies slowly as he seems to realize the situation he just put himself in. 

“Sorry,” he says quietly, looking embarrassed. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Apparently the one book left in Dean’s hand still isn’t enough to keep his hands to himself, because he abandons it off to the side without a thought for anything but getting his fingers around the delicious hip bones he has no hope of forgetting about anytime soon. Cas’s eyes slip closed at his gentle touch, and Dean takes the opportunity to drink in the sight of what could truly be the sexiest man alive perched on his goddamn lap like one of the dirty fantasies he’s been jerking it to in the shower ever since they met.

“Don’t be.” His voice is low from his dry mouth, but that still doesn’t shut him up. “You look damn good on top of me.” He’s a stupid, stupid man, but he caresses the soft skin above the waist of Cas’s jeans with his thumbs, and adds, “Feel good, too.”

Cas makes a tiny sound in his throat and shifts slightly in his lap. The direct friction of Cas’s ass on his dick erases any doubt about whether Cas knows how fucking hard he is or not, and he’s only distantly aware of the books Cas wrestled him for only a minute ago falling to the couch through the pleasure rolling through him when Cas’s eyes open again. They’re so fucking blue, but the large black pupils remind him that Cas _ is high _right before Cas’s hands tentatively fall on his chest, and slowly but surely creep up to land on his shoulders. Cas doesn’t keep his hands to himself once they get there though, he runs them over Dean’s shoulders, breathing hard as he traces the shape of them with his palms and fingers. 

“I-I’ve never done this before,” Cas whispers hoarsely, sounding nervous. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers back, still caressing Cas’s bare skin with his thumbs. “You’re just touching my shoulders.”

“They’re really firm,” Cas comments. “You’re... strong.”

“Used to working with cars,” he explains. “Now I just lift a lot of heavy boxes.”

Cas’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as he inhales sharply, and Dean realizes that the idea of him being strong must turn Cas on. He doesn’t know what to say, and he doesn’t want to accidentally say something to either put an end to or up the ante of whatever the hell is happening here, so he sits quietly. He tries not to think about how hard he’s going to come when he beats off thinking about this later, and instead concentrates on staying perfectly still as Cas’s hands move down his arms to wrap around his biceps. Cas squeezes gently, and Cas’s mouth drops open, expelling a warm breath across Dean’s lips.

_ “Oh,” _ Cas says breathlessly. It takes every ounce of control he has not to pull Cas down more firmly against his dick to ride the delicious curve of his ass, but he refrains by tightening his hold on Cas’s hips. _ “Dean.” _

It comes out close enough to a moan that he knows he’ll be hearing that in his head at opportune moments for a very, very long time. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I think the oil is making me horny.”

Dean laughs a little, even though it breaks some of the tension in the air between them. “I think you might’ve slipped me some, too, then.”

“I-I want to keep touching you but I know I shouldn’t.”

Cas sounds confused enough now that it makes his chest ache, and it cools some of the burning arousal under his skin. He releases Cas’s hips so he can frame his face instead, noting how beautiful Cas is when his dark eyelashes flutter, stuck somewhere between closed and trying to stay open. “I’m really into you and I’m all in if you wanna go hands-on. The only rules here are what you make for yourself.” Cas nods like he knows that, and so Dean lets his hands fall again. “But you should probably think ‘em through when you aren’t high and sitting in my lap.”

“I know that,” Cas replies, sounding tired but lucid. “My head’s fuzzy and I’m more turned on right now than I’ve ever been in my life, but I still know I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be sitting in your lap and thinking about how much I want to kiss you... how easy it would be... to just...”

His heart stops when Cas lowers his mouth towards his own, so incredibly close that there’s barely any space at all between them. Their noses brush and his eyes close, and the truth is, Cas might’ve kissed him in that moment, but he’ll never know because he does the last thing he wants to do and turns his head at the last possible second. 

He feels Cas’s whole body stiffen with the rejection, and before Cas can react more strongly, he wraps his arms around Cas and pulls him in against his chest. “This isn’t me not wanting you, so don’t you think that,” Dean assures him. “Not even for a second, okay? But I’m not gonna steal your first kiss when you’re unsure. Not when I know you’ve been saving it for somebody else this whole time.”

“I’m not,” Cas disagrees. 

Cas’s voice is muffled because his face is smushed into the side of his neck, and he tries not to react when he feels his lips brush his neck, but his dick is doing a damn good job of reminding him how painfully hard it is trapped in his jeans. 

“Okay,” he says evenly. He deliberately doesn’t think about how if Cas really has changed his mind, he could be kissing him right now, and keeps his mind on doing the right thing. “We can talk about that tomorrow if you want.”

Cas nods, but stays where he is for several long seconds before he pushes away and falls onto the seat next to Dean instead of on his lap. Cas moving around on his lap so much has skewed his pants enough that the fly isn’t providing any kind of cover for the way his dick is standing tall and proud, so he grabs the books from the couch and covers himself with them instead. His cheeks are flaming when he looks over at Cas to see if he was looking, only to see Cas staring right down at his crotch with open curiosity. 

Feeling defensive, he says, “Let me squirm around on your lap for ten minutes and see if you’re doing any better.”

“That’s unnecessary considering I'm in the same state.”

_ Cas is hard, too. _

“Oh fuck,” Dean groans. His fingers itch to make a move but he knows he can’t, so he grabs all three books and his guitar case, then gets up and goes to put his shoes on as fast as he can move, explaining, “If I don’t leave right now, I don’t know who’s gonna regret it more five seconds from now: me or you.”

“I understand,” Cas says quietly. Then he startles him when he bursts out with, “Wait! Your leftovers!” Cas hops up off of the couch and dashes into the kitchen, coming back with the container in his hands and his dick tenting his pants so obviously Dean can feel his mouth fill with saliva. “Here.”

Dean balances it on top of the books and clears his throat, forcing his brain to stay on track. “Thanks for asking me over. I, uh, had a good time tonight before—well—you know.” _ I had to bail before I jumped you. _

Cas steps forward with a determined look on his face, and with his hands full and his guitar on his back, Dean can’t do a damn thing about it when Cas leans in again. Thankfully, Cas only brushes his lips against his cheek in a soft but lingering kiss that has warmth enveloping him like a blanket. 

“Thank you for being you, Dean. I’m sorry if I was out of line or made you uncomfortable at all.”

“You didn’t,” Dean tells him honestly. “No harm done from pushing at the friend line a little. I just really hope you don’t hate me for it in the morning.”

“Impossible,” Cas promises. “In fact, I’ll text you when I wake up so you know for sure.”

Dean smiles softly. “Sounds good. I’ll see you later?”

“I’ll see you later,” Cas confirms.

Despite the shitty day and confusing evening, Dean’s orgasm later that night is powerful enough that it knocks him out almost immediately afterwards, leaving all of his worries to plague him the next day instead.


	6. Chapter 6

Another heat wave has moved into the city, so it’s good Castiel has a lot to think about to distract him when he goes for his morning run on Tuesday. He tries to dissect his feelings to figure out if he’s more embarrassed or ashamed by his behavior last night, and ultimately lands somewhere in the middle. There’s nothing wrong with kissing Dean—because Dean is his soulmate, he has nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about in that sense—but it’s the fact that he tried it  _ after _ telling Dean that he didn’t want to lead him on that bothers him. 

He was high, but he wasn’t so high that he didn’t know what he was doing, he was only so high that he knew what he wanted and went for it without thinking about the consequences. Thankfully, Dean is the kind of man who didn’t take advantage of the situation, because if touching Dean’s shoulders had gotten him as turned on as it did, god only knows what would have happened if he finally felt those incredibly full lips pressed against his.

Using oil when Dean is around has to be a hard no moving forward, at least until he tells him the truth. And really,  _ that’s _ what has him feeling down today. 

He has to tell Dean they’re soulmates.

Yes, his mind has traveled down this road before, but after last night, it would be ridiculous to even  _ try _ to tell himself that he and Dean can keep up the ‘only friends’ charade long enough to get Dean more comfortable with the idea of singing in front of people. The hard truth is that he’s incapable of keeping physical distance from Dean when Dean so willingly offers it up, and as much as he enjoys being close to Dean, it’s unfair to keep telling him they’re friends when they cozy up together like lovers.

What’s worse is that the whole point of inviting Dean over last night was to tell him how wonderful his music was again, but that didn’t end up happening the way he wanted it to, either. He was so touched after hearing Dean play "Stay" that he started questioning Dean about the song instead of lavishing him with praise the way he was supposed to. Then Dean played the Tom Petty song that he recognized from hearing Dean sing it so many times over the years, and Dean was so excited Castiel actually knew a song that he got too caught up in laughing and enjoying Dean’s company to bring it up again. 

But he needs to focus on getting Dean’s music out there so he can tell him the truth about being soulmates, and in order to do that, he needs to get him to play  _ again.  _ So once he’s home, showered, and dressed, he sits on the end of his bed and types out a text message to Dean like he said he would.

**CASTIEL:** Good morning, Dean. I told you I wouldn’t hate you this morning... hopefully you don’t hate me either. I’m sorry about the way I acted last night. I know I’ve been sending mixed signals and that’s not fair of me, but I promise I’ll try harder to be the kind of friend you deserve.  
**CASTIEL:** I was hoping we could hang out again this weekend, maybe with Jess and Sam there as well. Let me know if you’re all free at some point this weekend and maybe we can set something up?  
**CASTIEL:** I hope you have a good day 😊

He gets his reply a half hour later, and it puts him at ease immediately.  
  
**DEAN:** I don’t hate you, either. Still crazy about you, tbh, and I don’t want to hear any more crap about being what I deserve. I like you the way you are.  
**DEAN:** Especially the cuddling 😉  
**DEAN:** I definitely want to hang out again. I’ll talk to S&J and let you know asap  
**DEAN:** Don’t work too hard 😊

His day passes uneventfully, if he doesn’t count the amount of times he gets that new soulmate song Dean has been working on stuck in his head. It isn’t fair of him, but he feels almost... bad... knowing that Dean is thinking about his soulmate after they had a night together like last night. It’s silly, because he  _ is _ Dean’s soulmate, but Dean doesn’t know that, and he’s weirdly hurt by the idea of Dean thinking about another man. 

Not that it helps him to stop thinking about Dean at all. He loses himself in thoughts of how Dean came right out and said he wanted to be with him for the first time. He remembers how good it felt to be so close to him, how perfectly he fit into Dean’s arms, and how desperate he had been to kiss him several times throughout the morning. He thought he might have regrets about being so forward, but winding up in Dean’s lap had really been accidental on his part, and Dean didn’t seem to mind. _Dean called him sweetheart,_ Castiel remembers fondly. It made his heart flutter and his insides melt, and he must have repeated exactly how Dean’s low voice sounded saying that one word a hundred times in his head since. In fact, it had been thinking about that combined with the unadulterated lust in Dean’s eyes when he first straddled Dean that had pushed him over the edge when he masturbated before bed again last night.

And he needs to stop thinking about  _ that _ while he’s at work before he develops a very obvious problem. The good news is, he has a lot of thinking to do in order to come up with a viable idea for Dean to get his music out there without having to actually play in front of people, so he at least has that to try to rein in his thoughts. 

The highlight of his work week turns out to be an unexpected visit from one of his favorite customers on Thursday. He was too lost in thought (and stocking books) to notice she came in right away, but a tap on his shoulder had him looking into a kind face surrounded by short, red, bouncing curls. 

“Hello, Charlie.”

“Just the man I was hoping to see,” she replies. “I’ve got another book order for you.”

Charlie is the owner of a hobbies and games store across the street, and she often places orders for books that go with the introductory game nights she runs monthly. He puts up flyers for her events in his store, coordinates a display in the games section to go with what she’s currently trying to push, and in return, she buys all of her books from him instead of on Amazon, and tells him about any upcoming rule books that he might want to order so she can send her customers over for them. They’re able to share business between their stores this way, and it works well for both of them.

“Sounds great, let’s go into my office.”

They fall into step side-by-side, and she nudges him gently. “Looked like you were thinking hard when I walked in. Everything okay?”

“Yes, thank you. Just a personal problem I’m having a hard time puzzling my way through.”

“Oooh, know who’s really, really good at puzzles?” 

“Who?” Castiel wonders.

“Me!” she exclaims. “Well, I mean, I own a hobby store, so I thought it was sorta obvious,” she jokes.

Castiel laughs at his own stupidity. “Of course  _ you _ would be good at puzzles.”

“So lay it on me,” she offers, plunking down in the chair across from his desk.

Figuring it can’t hurt, he says, “Somebody close to me has big dreams of becoming a songwriter.”

“And let me guess, they’re terrible and you don’t know how to tell them?”

He shakes his head. “No, not at all. Actually, he’s fabulous. Extremely talented and witty, and his songs vary from heartbreaking to laugh-out-loud funny.”

“So what’s the catch?” Charlie wonders.

“He can’t sing in front of people. He just shuts down, and no amount of practice seems to help.” Now that he actually has a chance to talk about this with someone instead of going over and over it in his head, it comes pouring out of him, and the pent up heartbreak comes with it. “This means so much to him, and I know he has what it takes to make it, I just don’t know what more I can do to help him get over his fear.”

Charlie sounds concerned when she replies, “This is really weighing on you.”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” he says honestly.

“So the real problem is the stage fright?” she asks, and Castiel agrees with a nod of his head. “Well, it’s a good thing this is the 21st century.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Charlie lifts her hand and starts ticking off fingers one at a time. “Justin Beiber, Shawn Mendes, Tori Kelly. Do those names mean nothing to you?”

“Should they?” he asks. He knows they’re famous people, or at least, he’s pretty sure Justin Beiber was a famous person when he was younger.

“You’re my favorite little alien, you know that?” She smiles at him fondly and leans across the desk, resting her chin in her hands. “They’re all singers who got their big break from YouTube, E.T.”

“From YouTube?” Castiel repeats, his wheels already spinning. “So I could take a video of him singing and post it online?”

“If he’s good enough, it’ll get views. Any chance your friend is easy on the eyes?”

Castiel huffs out a laugh. “That may be the understatement of the century.”

She wiggles her eyebrows, reminding him a lot of Dean. “I can post it on our social media pages to give you a hand. I’ve got connections all over the world because of all the online platforms I use.” She nods to herself as she continues, “If he’s pretty and he can sing, there’s no reason it can’t take off.”

He can’t help the huge grin that spreads across his face. “Charlie, this is the best idea I’ve had so far. I don’t know if he’ll be up for it—”

“I’m sure if you bat those baby blues in his direction he’d be willing to give it a shot,” Charlie teases, and for the first time in his life, he thinks that might be true. He might actually be able to get Dean to go along with this just because it’s  _ him _ asking. “Holy batcrap! He would, wouldn’t he? I legit tried not to ask, but you’ve gotta spill, Castiel! Who is this guy?”

He feels his cheeks heating up, but shakes his head. “We’re just friends.”

She sputters, “Yeah, sure. Totally buying that.”

Knowing he needs to get back on track, he asks, “Do you have any suggestions for where I should film him? Is just playing on the couch alright, or should I use a specific background or something?”

“I’m assuming you’re gonna use the camera on your phone?” Castiel doesn’t have anything else, so he nods. “I’d suggest outside, then. Natural lighting will give you a clearer video.”

Instantly, the balcony of his apartment comes to mind, and he thinks he can make that work. “I know the perfect place.”

“If you need any technical help—video editing, sound editing, whatever—I’d be happy to give you a hand.”   


“Really?’

“Duh, that’s what friends are for! You’ve already got my number, so just text me if slash when you need me, okay?”

He absolutely cannot wipe the smile off of his face. “Thank you so much, Charlie. I really think this could work.”

“Awesome sauce,” she grins. “Now, let’s talk books.”

Dinner that night is left over grilled chicken from earlier in the week tossed into a salad that uses up the last of his fresh vegetables, and while eating alone is something that he’s used to, he finds it much more lonely with the memory of how nice it was sharing a meal at this very table with Dean so fresh in his mind. Hopefully it will only be a few more days before he can tell Dean the truth, though, and then maybe he won’t have to eat at a table for one much longer after that.

He catches himself humming Dean’s song under his breath several times while he’s doing laundry that night, and he knows Dean’s at home working on his song again. It stops suddenly, and he’s about to send Dean a text now that he knows he’s not working anymore, when new words run through his head as clear as a bell.  
  
_ Blank space on my shoulder waiting for your head.  
_ _ Cold sheets that don’t smell like you.  
_ _ Not beer, not books, no scent to fall back asleep to.  
  
_ _ You’re the key made for my lock...  
  
_ That seems to be as far as Dean gets before he starts over, and Castiel figures he’s trying to bridge the gap between the verse and the chorus, because it doesn’t flow as well as Dean’s songs usually do. The words though? Blank space on his shoulder? A scent described as beer and books? Maybe it’s egotistical to think so, but there’s at least a chance that Dean is singing about him right now... isn't there?

He reacts to that before he thinks it all the way through and grabs his phone to send another text.  
  
**CASTIEL:** My couch seems way too big for one person tonight  
  
Dean doesn’t text back right away, but about twenty minutes later, he hears his phone ding.  
  
**DEAN:** Says the guy who wound up in my lap lol  
**CASTIEL:** That wasn’t to save space!  
**DEAN:** I’m just that irresistible?  
**CASTIEL:** If that was supposed to say “irritating”, then yes. What are you doing?  
**DEAN: **rude  
**DEAN:** Just finished playing guitar. Almost done a new song.  
**CASTIEL:** Will you play it for me sometime?  
**DEAN:** idk. This one’s a sappy one. Kinda embarrassing.  
**CASTIEL:** No pressure 😊 You have Netflix at home, right?  
**DEAN:** Yep  
**CASTIEL:** Want to watch the third episode of You?  
**DEAN:** Me at my place and you at yours?  
**CASTIEL:** I won’t accidentally end up on top of you this way  
**DEAN:** Not like I was complaining 😜 But yeah, lemme just change and grab a snack  
**CASTIEL:** Okay, let me know when you’re ready  
  
Cas goes to change into pajama pants himself, and he’s just settled onto the couch with a blanket over his lap when Dean texts back.

**DEAN:** Ready when you are  
**CASTIEL:** Episode recap first?  
**DEAN:** Sure  
**CASTIEL:** Okay, go  
**CASTIEL:** Stephen King and Gillian Flynn for advice for how to get rid of a body? It’s as if Joe’s never even stepped foot in a bookstore  
**DEAN:** You would pick up on that lol  
**DEAN:** People like Blythe make me understand murderers  
**CASTIEL:** I was just thinking the same thing hahaha  
**CASTIEL:** Wow, Beck is really sleeping her way through all the single men in New York  
**DEAN:** God bless her  
**CASTIEL: 🙄  
****DEAN:** 😇  
**CASTIEL: **Why doesn’t Beck have curtains? That makes no sense with that big window.   
**DEAN:** AND if she’s so broke, why is she even buying a new bed? Put your mattress on the floor and call it a day, lady. Problem solved.  
**CASTIEL:** If she didn’t shop, she might actually have to write, and THAT would be totally out of character for her  
**DEAN: **lol   
**CASTIEL:** He was really just going to go down on her in the furniture store???  
**DEAN:** ...the gall  
**CASTIEL:** 😐  
**DEAN: **😇  
**CASTIEL:** Sure Joe, just put a dead body in the back of your car. What could go wrong?  
**DEAN:** imo, the most unrealistic part of this whole show is that Joe and Beck don’t fight while building the new bed   
**CASTIEL:** I’m not the only one who curses like a sailor doing that?  
**DEAN:** Fuck no  
**CASTIEL:** I would’ve dumped Joe the second he yelled at me like that  
**DEAN:** That does not bode well for my temper  
**DEAN: **...good thing we’re just friends 😂  
**CASTIEL:** OH MY GOD  
**CASTIEL:** EIGHT SECONDS?  
**CASTIEL:** He came in EIGHT seconds?  
**CASTIEL:** Holy shit  
**CASTIEL:** I think I have a new worst fear  
  
His phone lights up with an incoming FaceTime from Dean, so he swipes to accept. The first thing he sees is a huge grin on Dean’s face, and Dean says, “I was waiting for you to see that part.”

“I have so much secondhand embarrassment, I don’t even know what to do with myself.” Dean laughs, and Castiel repeats, “Eight seconds, though? How do you recover from that?”

“My guess is pretty quickly,” Dean quips, and Castiel chuckles. 

“Now I never want to have sex. What if that happens to me?”

“Who cares?” Dean says, and Castiel can just see the corner of his shoulder rise and fall in a shrug. “Then you wait ten minutes and give it another go.”

“It would be humiliating,” Castiel says.

“Or flattering, depending on how you look at it.”

“Flattering?”   


“Yeah,” Dean reiterates. “Kinda nice to know the person you’re with thinks you’re so hot they blow their load in less than ten seconds.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Then he laughs. “Remember that after it happens to me my first time.”

Dean’s eyebrows lift. “Am I supposed to watch and offer tips, or am I waiting outside the door, or...?”

His heart drops into his stomach as soon as he realizes what he said, and his face floods with color so quickly he feels like actual flames are licking at his skin. “N-neither, sorry. I guess... sometimes... I just kind of...”

“Think about me?” Dean offers with a cocky grin.   


That makes a hell of a lot more sense than anything he was going to come up with, so although he keeps his face angled away so that he isn’t looking right at Dean, he nods his head and chews on his bottom lip nervously.

“That’s hot, Cas,” Dean comments.

Castiel laughs nervously, embarrassed to be talking about this. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Dean says softly. “Besides, if it makes you feel better or whatever, it’s not like you’re the only one.”

He lifts his gaze for that. “What?”

“What?” Dean echoes, shrugging. “You’re  _ hot _ and you know I’m into you. Can’t be that big of a surprise.”

He knows he sounds like an idiot, but confirmation of Dean thinking of him  _ like that _ has most of the blood fueling his brain rushing south. “That’s... hot.”

“See?” Dean teases. Dean’s voice is rough the same way it was when Castiel straddled him, and he wonders if this conversation is having the same kind of effect on Dean as it’s having on him. Then Dean chuckles quietly. “Jesus, how do we still have this fuckin’ tension or whatever it is between us on a FaceTime?”

“I have no idea,” he says honestly. “But I guess it’s pointless to try to pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“You’d just wind up in my lap again tryin’ to kiss me,” Dean jokes. 

Castiel lets out an embarrassed huff. “Looking back, I don’t know what I was thinking. I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“What to do with what?”

“Kissing. I’d probably end up slobbering all over you.”

“Nah, I have more faith in you than that,” Dean says quietly. “Besides, I’d help you out. Start nice and slow, be real gentle and ease you into it.” Castiel’s heart starts beating frantically just picturing it. “I’d make sure to keep it chaste at first, get you used to how different it can feel to tilt your head just a little, to kiss long and slow or short and quick.”

He’s a little breathless, but he replies, “I never really thought about how many different ways there are to kiss somebody.”

“I could show you,” Dean offers.

Castiel laughs quietly at the obvious pick up line. “So generous of you.”

“No, I’m serious.” And because Dean sounds serious, he looks back at his phone curiously. “I know you wanna save your first kiss for your soulmate, but if you’re nervous about fucking it up or not knowing what to do, we could practice.”

“Practice kissing?”

“Yeah. And it wouldn’t count ‘cause it’s just practice. I mean, it’d be a real sacrifice on my part, but that’s just the kind of friend I am, Cas. I’m selfless like that.”

Cas shakes his head fondly at the put-upon tone of voice Dean is using. “Do you... would you care if your soulmate didn’t know how to kiss?”

Dean pauses for long enough that he’s nervous about what his answer might be. “Part of me wants to say yes so I can keep trying to push the practice angle, but no, not really.” His voice sounds a little bit sad when he continues, “Guess this means you decided that you still wanna save your first kiss for him now that you’re not under the influence anymore?”

“I-I don’t know,” Castiel hedges. He swallows just to buy himself a second, and then says, “I’m honestly more worried about you being mad at me for it later than anything else.”

Dean huffs in clear annoyance. “You know the longer you keep whatever this is from me, the worse it’s gonna be when you fess up, right?”

Those words hit him like a shot through the heart, and Castiel drops his head into his hands to try to keep himself together. He doesn’t like talking about this (he actually hates it), but at the same time, he feels like by at least mentioning it, he’s warning Dean that he isn’t the perfect guy he knows Dean is building him up to be in his head. He doesn’t deserve to be put on a pedestal, and Dean needs to be reminded of that regardless of how much it hurts to keep bringing it up.

“Cas?”

“Just—just give me a second,” he whispers. 

Dean does, but barely longer than that. “I don’t get it,” Dean blurts. “If keeping this secret from me is tearing you up so much, why not just tell me?”

Castiel shakes his head, still refusing to lift it to avoid seeing the pain and confusion on the face he loves so much. “There’s... more important things.”

“More important things? Than me?” Dean asks, his voice quickly turning hard. “You mean him again, don’t you? Compared to him, I’m not important?”

“No!” Castiel exclaims, looking up now. “I don’t mean that at all, Dean. This has nothing to do with anybody but you and me.”

Instead of relief like he expected, he only sees more pain in Dean’s eyes. “Is this about my job?” Dean sounds so distraught that Castiel doesn’t quite understand what he’s asking. What’s wrong with Dean’s job? “I know everybody else in this city has some fancy degree or whatever, and just ‘cause I don’t doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I got into university, Cas. I’m not just some dumb grease monkey, I just couldn’t—”

“Dean, stop.” He has a lump the size of Texas lodged in his throat and he’s afraid if he has to hear one more desperate plea from Dean he won’t be able to speak around it anymore. “I don’t care what your job is, or about a degree. You could be unemployed and living in a box on the side of the street and it wouldn’t change a thing between us. It’s not  _ you, _ Dean.”

Dean snorts bitterly. “It’s not you, it’s me? Really? You’re gonna try and feed me that shit?”

“Please don’t swear at me,” Cas says firmly. “I understand you’re upset, and I know it’s all my fault, but cursing at me isn’t helping anything.”

“Alright,” Dean says quietly. “I’m not swearing  _ at _ you, I’m just swearing ‘cause I’m pissed.”

“And understandably,” Castiel agrees. “I know none of this is fair to you, but I hope you know I’m not taking this lightly.”

“What’s  _ this?”  _ Dean asks again, sounding exasperated. “I keep trying to tell myself it doesn't matter because when I’m with you... it just doesn’t.” He gets quiet and almost shy-sounding when he keeps going, and Castiel wishes more than anything that he could wrap his arms around Dean to try to help. “Everything feels right when we’re together, and then I leave and I start thinking...” Dean laughs humorlessly. “I don’t know if Cassie fucked me up more than I thought or if this is just a you thing, because I know we barely even know each other but god dammit, Cas. I can’t explain it but I can’t stand the thought of losin’ you, too.” 

“You won’t lose me,” Castiel promises, grasping desperately for some kind of explanation that Dean might accept to make this easier for him. “There’s just... things I need to accomplish before I can offer you anything more than... well, friendship isn’t even really fair to say anymore, is it?” Not wanting the lies to pile up any higher than they already have, he rephrases. “Before I can offer you more than I already have.”

“What’s that mean?" Dean presses. "You’re gonna have to spell it out for me, Cas, ‘cause I still don’t think I get it. Cuddling and feeling me up is okay, but kissing isn’t?”

“I don’t know!” Castiel explodes. “I don’t know how to do this either, okay? I’m  _ trying,  _ Dean. I’ve been trying so hard to do the right thing with you from the very beginning and I feel like all I’ve actually accomplished is hurting both of us more.” His heart shatters into a million tiny little shards when the most logical way out of this occurs to him. He can tell Sam about Charlie’s video idea. If Dean’s serious about wanting to sell his music, Dean won’t need him there for encouragement. And if Dean can do it on his own, that means... “Maybe... it’s better if we just keep our distance for now.”

“Don’t do that,” Dean begs him. “Don’t walk outta my life after you  _ just _ fucking promised not to!”

“I don’t want to,” he confesses. “I just... I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to lose you, but I keep trying to just be your friend and it doesn’t feel like it’s working.”

“Well it doesn’t gotta be all or nothing! We just gotta... figure out where the sweet spot is,” Dean suggests. There’s a timidity to Dean’s voice he isn’t used to, and it makes him wonder if what Dean’s thinking is making him nervous. “What’s good for both of us, y'know? Seems like kissing is off the table, but me putting my arm around you is okay, right?”

Could it be that simple? 

“I like that, yes,” he says quietly.

“I like it, too.” Dean’s voice has gotten soft again, that special tone of voice he’s only ever heard Dean use when talking to him, and it does wonders to soothe his nerves. “I’m gonna say you probably shouldn’t sit in my lap again, because, well, it’s a little too easy with you to start thinkin’ with my dick instead of my brain.”   


His face is warm again, but he agrees with a nod of his head. “Nothing sexual. That’s what I mean when I say friendly.”

Dean tilts his head teasingly to the side. “You let your other friends put their arm around you on the couch?”

“No,” he says sheepishly. “Only ever you.”

“I was hopin’ that’s what you were gonna say,” Dean replies. “How do you feel about holding hands?”

“I-I don’t know,” he answers. “It seems... more intimate for some reason.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothin’. I’m just surprised since holding hands is something friends  _ actually _ do, probably a lot more than cuddling on the couch. But if it doesn’t feel right to you, no big deal.”

His heart melts at Dean’s easy acceptance, but it’s hard to welcome it when he knows he doesn’t deserve it. “Why are you being so understanding about all of this? You could be with somebody who’d let you do what every other couple does, without all of these ridiculous rules...” Though it pains him to bring it up again in case it sets Dean off, Dean needs to keep this in the forefront of his mind. “...and without them keeping something from you.”

“Then they wouldn’t be you.” 

He closes his eyes and whispers, “I’m not worth this.”

“I think you are.”

“Only because you don’t know.”

“So you got one mark against you,” Dean says. “Everybody has some.”

Castiel opens his eyes again to search Dean’s face for any hint of sarcasm and comes up blank. “But you seemed... so mad before... and now it’s like everything’s okay.”

Dean looks away from the camera now, and though he’s sitting in shadows, Castiel would guess that he’s blushing. “I told you I got a temper. It...” He blows out a heavy breath, looking like he’d rather have a tooth pulled than say whatever it is that he’s working up to. “Ithurtmyfeeelingswhenyousaidyoudidn’twanttokissme,” he mumbles all in a rush.

It takes him a second to put together the pieces of what he heard into a coherent sentence, and even though it might be one of the most adorable things he’s ever heard, it also makes his heart hurt. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean responds, which isn’t really a response at all. “You said maybe someday, right?”

“Yes,” Castiel confirms, though he’s warm enough just thinking about it that he pushes his feet out from under the blanket. 

“And you’ll... you’ll tell me when so you don't have to keep turning me down?”

“I’ll tell you when.” When Dean only nods, he asks, “Are you still mad at me?”   


Dean flicks his eyes back to the screen as a smile pulls at one side of his mouth. “With those big sad eyes lookin’ at me? No way. Probably only lasted this long ‘cause you’re not right in front of me.”

“I wish I was.”

“Yeah?”

Castiel nods. “I could use a hug.”

“Fuck, me too.” Then, “I could come over.”

He wants to say yes. He almost does. But as much as he and Dean have decided where their limits lie, that doesn’t mean he necessarily trusts himself to stay within them. Not when he’s already feeling vulnerable, and not now that it’s already starting to get late. 

“I’d like that, but I think it’s smarter if we wait for the weekend.”

“You wanna watch another episode of You? We can keep FaceTime on if you want.”

Castiel smiles and nods. “That sounds good.”

Though he feels a little awkward at first holding his phone where Dean can see him while he watches the TV, within minutes, they’re both laughing at Beck explaining Joe’s  _ o face _ as, “That ‘trump just took Pennsylvania' look,” and he settles into the show and Dean’s virtual company without another thought. 

Almost an hour later, Castiel stops Netflix before it moves onto the next episode. Now way too warm for the blanket, he ditches it completely while he voices his biggest complaint about You so far. “It’s unrealistic that Joe just breaks into all of these houses without getting caught.”

“Nah, he had that ball cap on that makes him invisible,” Dean points out, and Castiel laughs loudly.

“He really does think it’s a clever disguise, doesn’t he?”

Dean shrugs. “Seems to be working for him so far.”

“It’s  _ weird _ that he’s so creepy, that we know that he’s creepy, and he’s still—”

“Likable?” Dean finishes.

“Yes!” Castiel exclaims. “It makes me feel like anybody could secretly be a murderer.”

Dean hits him with a predatory grin. “You’re not the only one keeping secrets.”

Castiel chuckles, but acknowledges, “You’d be an excellent murderer because all you'd have to do is smile at people like that and you'd fry their brain cells.”

“Maybe I’ll pick a rich mark and get me the hell outta this shit hole.”

“I need to see your place sometime. It doesn’t look as bad as you’ve made it sound.”

“Based off of my couch and the one wall behind me?” Dean asks. “Believe me, you don’t wanna see this place.”

“Maybe I want to see it because it’s yours.”

Dean looks pleased, but jokes, “Just give me a month or two to tidy up and you can come right over.”

“Don’t think I’ll forget.”

“You think we’ll still be friends in a couple of months?” Dean wonders. 

_ Much more than friends.  _ “No doubt in my mind.”

“Guess I better start cleanin’ then.”

Castiel laughs quietly. “I should get ready for bed.”

“6AM,” Dean says for him, and Castiel nods. “Alright, well, thanks for keeping me company.”

“Anytime. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“You bet. ‘Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

He sits there in silence for a few seconds with a goofy smile on his face. Yes, things had taken a bit of a turn for a few minutes there, but they talked it out and it seems like they have a plan for how to move forward together until he can tell Dean that they’re soulmates,  _ and  _ he has a viable idea for how to get Dean’s music out there now too. Things are finally looking up. 

He gets up to start getting ready for bed, but by the time he’s finished packing his lunch and laying out his clothes for the next day, he’s covered in a thin sheet of sweat. The heatwave is obviously starting to creep in from outside, so he’ll just have to turn the air conditioning up. When he reaches the thermostat, he’s surprised to see it’s 74 degrees inside. He has it set for 70 overnight, so he tries to turn it down a couple of degrees. He sees it’s still set for 70, though, which means the a/c isn’t keeping up with just how hot it is outside. 

This is the first time this has happened to him in this apartment, but then again, it is  _ really _ hot out. He’ll just have to strip down to boxers to sleep tonight. He brushes his teeth, uses the bathroom, and climbs into bed. He lays on top of his blankets, and despite how the air in his bedroom feels humid and gross compared to the crisp, cool air he’s used to, he falls asleep just as fast as usual. 

... until he wakes up around 11:30, so hot he’s actually sweat through his boxers. He mentally curses himself for not even having a fan to circulate the air, and pushes open his bedroom window to see if that will help. He grabs himself a glass of water, and when he checks the temperature on the thermostat, he understands why he’s so warm. It’s almost eighty-five degrees in here! There’s no way he’s going to be able to get back to sleep like this. 

He knows the landlord is unavailable after 11, so he tries to think of what he could do to cool down the apartment. There’s nowhere within walking distance that would have a fan, and he doesn’t have a car. He knows Sam and Jess live close by, so maybe they’d have a fan he could borrow?

It’s 11:30, though, and he doesn’t know how late they stay up. And he doesn’t have their phone number, but he knows someone who will.  
  
**CASTIEL:** Sorry to bother you so late, but if you’re still awake, can I have Sam and/or Jess’s phone numbers?  
**DEAN: ** Everything okay? Thought you were going to bed   
**CASTIEL: ** I did, but my air conditioning is broken and I couldn’t sleep because it’s like an oven in my bedroom. I was hoping Sam and Jess might have a fan I could walk over to get from them.  
**DEAN: ** You’re not walking around in this heat at fucking midnight hauling around a fan. I’ve got a portable unit I can bring over. I can be there in ten minutes.   
**CASTIEL: ** You are a LIFESAVER!!!  
**DEAN: ** Be there soon  
  
Even though it’s the last thing he wants to do, Castiel gets a pair of pajama pants out, but he waits until Dean buzzes to get in to put them on. He considers putting a t-shirt on, too, but ultimately decides against it. He’d be wearing less if he was swimming, so it’s not like he’s indecent or anything, and it’s fucking  _ hot _ in here. 

When he opens the door to let Dean inside, Dean is sweating like a pig. Dean’s eyes also pop wide open and then travel up and down his chest without a hint of subtlety, prompting Castiel to clear his throat.

Dean doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry, not sorry.”

Castiel shakes his head fondly, looking at the hose for the portable unit Dean has wrapped around his arm and some long plastic thing under his armpit. “Want me to take something?”

“No, I got it,” he says stepping into the living room. “You weren’t kidding about it being hot in here, holy shit.”   


“Is the whole building out?”   


“No, the main floor was okay. Didn’t notice ‘til I got out of the elevator.”

“Huh.”

“Bedroom?” Dean asks.

“Oh!” Castiel exclaims. He’d just been standing here chatting while Dean was stuck awkwardly holding all of the different parts. “Yeah, I guess that makes the most sense if I want to sleep tonight.”

Dean starts walking that way, rolling the air conditioner in front of him, and says, “Your bedhead’s cute, by the way.”

Castiel hadn’t even thought to look in a mirror, but he has no doubt that his hair is standing up in several directions the way it usually is when he wakes up. Thankfully he’s probably already so flushed from the temperature that he doesn’t have to worry about a noticeable blush. 

“Shut up,” he says lightly. “Not all of us can wake up looking like a supermodel.”

“Says the dude with abs of steel,” Dean shoots back. “Remind me to never take my shirt off in front of you.”

Considering he’s almost salivating at the sight of Dean’s biceps as he pushes the air conditioner towards his window, Castiel lets out a sound of disbelief. “I already ‘felt you up,’ remember? I know what kind of muscles you have under your shirt.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t explore enough to figure out they stop right around here,” Dean says, pointing to his stomach. “My gut pays the price for lovin’ burgers, pie, and beer.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I only like you for your air conditioner, then,” Castiel jokes, and Dean chuckles as he fits some plastic thing along the opening of the window. It gets held in place by the lower sash of the pane, and then Dean reaches for the hose and starts connecting the unit to the window. Dean moves with such ease and competence that Castiel can’t help but enjoy the view he’s been gifted: a handsome, sweaty man, working with his hands to save the day. It’s quite a sight. “Looks like I’m gonna deliver, too.”

“My hero,” Castiel quips, but that’s not far from the truth. Especially not after Dean plugs the unit into the wall, hits the button, and cold air starts streaming into the room. “Oh my god,” he groans, stepping right in front of it. He closes his eyes and moans unabashedly as it cools his face for the first time in what feels like days. “Dean, I think I might love you.”

“Ah hah,” Dean chokes out, and Castiel opens his eyes to find Dean with one hand on the back of his neck and his face so red his ears are burning. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, man, but you’re sounding like one hell of a porno over there.”

“Please,” Castiel scoffs. “I’m just expressing my gratitude.”

“Yeah, so are the dudes in porn when they’re moaning like that.”

“Anyway,” Castiel says pointedly. “I’m glad I texted you.”

“To talk to  _ Sam,”  _ Dean complains. 

Castiel grins at him playfully. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” Dean says quickly, except it doesn’t sound like he means it. “Was just sorta hoping that if you needed something you’d think of me, not him.”

Because that makes his heart warm, he smiles softly. “I was just trying to do what would be easiest for me. I’m not exactly used to relying on other people.”

“Well get used to it.”

“I’ll try,” Castiel tells him. His face is cold enough now that he takes a step back, marveling at how much cooler the room is already. “It was lucky that you just had an extra unit hanging around.”

Dean’s mouth opens and closes, then his eyes hit the floor. “Yeah.”

Because  _ that _ isn’t suspicious. “You did have an extra one, didn’t you?” He looks back at the unit, seeing that it looks well-used, which means he didn’t buy it. “Or did you borrow this from somebody?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean says, trying to wave him away. “Point is, you’re all set up for the night now, and you’ll be sleepin’ like a baby in no time. Actually, I better get going so I’m not dead on my feet in the morning.”

Dean makes an attempt at a quick exit, but that only makes him more curious, so he stops Dean before he gets through the bedroom door. “Where did the air conditioning unit come from?”   


“My place, obviously. Where else would I get it from?”

“I figured it was an old one you don’t need because your building has a/c.”

“I don’t need it,” Dean confirms.

Except he oh-so-carefully dodged the part about his building. He has a sinking suspicion now... but surely... that would be crazy, right? “You do have a/c in your building, right?” Almost everywhere in Texas does. 

“Not... exactly,” Dean admits. “But it’s so old it traps the cold air in like nobody’s business. Plus, I’m in the basement, so I’m fine. Heat rises and all that, so you’re a lot worse off up here.”

“No,” Castiel says firmly. “I don’t want the air conditioner out of  _ your _ window. I didn’t ask you to do that!”

“I know. I wanted to. It’s really not a big deal.”

“It is to me. Please take it back out.”

“No way,” Dean disagrees. “I just hauled it over here, I’m not hauling it all the way back now. I’m freaking tired, man.”

“Well then you should just stay here tonight. My couch is extremely comfortable, and that way we’ll both be cool.”

“I know what you’re tryin’ to do, and it’s real nice of you, but this sucker only does about 350 square feet. It won’t cool your whole apartment, Cas. Hell, if you don’t keep your bedroom door closed, it’ll barely do anything at all.”

“Take it back with you, then,” Castiel tries again.

Dean crosses his arms over his chest, setting his jaw stubbornly. “Nope.”

Unfortunately for Dean, Castiel’s stubborn streak is a mile wide, and he’s not about to let Dean go home to a hot house after Dean just saved him from the same thing. 

He eyes his king-sized bed and accepts the inevitable. “Then I guess you’re sleeping with me.”

Dean goggles at him. “What?”

He tries to pretend like his face doesn’t feel every bit as warm now as it did before Dean put the air conditioner in and stands his ground. “It’s a king-sized bed. There’s plenty of space for both of us.”

“Cas,” Dean says, shaking his head slightly. “C’mon, man. You don’t wanna share a bed with me.”   


“Why not?”

“You don’t even wanna hold hands.”

“This isn’t the same thing. This is practical, and if anything, more like having your arm around me than holding hands,” he decides, convincing himself in the process. If he’s okay having Dean hold him on the couch, it shouldn’t be any different just because it’s a bed.  _ Things _ happen when two people are alone in a bed, but the same can be said for a couch. This is only a big deal if they make it one. “I’m okay with this.”

Dean crosses the room so that they’re standing within arms reach of one another. Castiel doesn’t look away when Dean searches his eyes, or when Dean offers, “It’ll piss me off, but if you’re only doing this because I’m bein’ a stubborn son of a bitch, then I’ll take the a/c back to my place. I don’t want you doin’ something you’re gonna regret later because you feel like you were pushed into it.”

And that’s more than enough proof that he’s making the right choice right here. Dean’s attracted to him, yes, but Dean cares about him, too. Dean will respect any boundaries he sets, he knows he will. 

So he takes another step forward, effectively erasing the little bit of space between them, and winds his arms around Dean’s neck. “I want you to stay.”

Dean licks his lips, a nervous habit Castiel has picked up on, and though his heart beats so hard he’s afraid Dean will hear it, he smiles when he feels Dean’s hands settle onto his bare hips. “I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” Cas lifts his eyebrows and Dean says through a laugh, “Well, as close as I can get anyway. But I have to say one thing first.”

“Okay?” His eyelashes flutter when desire curls low in his stomach as Dean’s calloused thumbs trace the shape of his hip bones. 

“You have the sexiest hip bones I’ve ever seen in my fucking life.”

Castiel looks down at how Dean’s big hands are currently caressing them, not seeing anything about them that looks out of the ordinary to him. “Really?”

Dean nods gravely. “I could exaggerate  _ a lot _ but I don’t wanna be a perv.”

Castiel laughs at that. “I appreciate it. Would you like to borrow a pair of pajama pants?”

“I usually sleep in my boxers.”

Castiel feels arousal race through his veins like fire at the thought of Dean in his bed in his underwear. “Not tonight you don’t,” he tells Dean. 

“Then yeah, I guess so.” 

Though he’s loathe to do it, he pulls his hands back to his side and steps out of Dean’s arms to walk over to his dresser. He selects one of the pairs of pants that’s in the best condition, and hands them over. “You can get changed in the bathroom. I don’t have an extra toothbrush but there’s mouthwash in there if you need it. Feel free to root around for anything else you might need—there’s nothing in there you can’t see.” 

“Famous last words,” Dean jokes. “Be right back.”

He waits for the door to close behind Dean before he covers his face with his hands and takes a deep breath to try to calm the nervous butterflies in his stomach, telling himself this is going to be fine. 

It’s just a matter of sharing space. 

Nothing’s going to happen between them. 

It’s  _ fine.  _


	7. Chapter 7

Dean’s as nervous as a teenager on prom night and nowhere near as likely to get lucky. He’s already changed into the pants Cas gave him, used the bathroom, and now he’s looking into the mirror trying to will the stupid flush off of his face caused by the idea of sharing a bed with Cas.

He needs to get his shit together.

_ He _ is not the blushing virgin, here. He’s slept in plenty of beds in his day, most of the time wearing a hell of a lot less than freakin’ pajamas. Sure, it’s been a while, and it might’ve crossed his mind a time or two that the last person he slept next to broke his heart into a million pieces and there’s a good chance this thing with Cas is going to end in exactly the same way, but at least he knows going in this time. He just needs to man up and open the damn door. 

Cas is probably going to ask to sleep on separate sides of the bed, so there’s nothing to be nervous about because it’s gonna be like he’s not even there.

He takes one final deep breath, and pulls the door open.

“I was just about to come check if you fell asleep on the toilet,” Cas says. Though it was obviously meant to be a joke, he can hear the nervousness in Cas’s voice.

“Almost,” Dean lies, purposely not looking at how Cas looks sitting on his bed so that he can’t think about it later. He does notice that Cas is on the side of the bed closest to the bathroom, so Dean walks around to the other side. “Guess you picked your side of the bed?”

“I had to think about it since I’ve never had to choose one before, but I figured sleeping right in the middle as usual wasn’t the nicest way to divide the space.”

Thinking about lying in the middle of the bed on top of Cas is a very dumb idea, but his mind goes there anyway while he grabs the blanket and pulls it away from the mattress so he can get in. Now he’s nervous _ and _ turned on, so he just barely manages to choke out a wrecked sounding, “Considerate.”

Cas doesn’t say anything while he turns off the lamp next to his bed and they both get under the covers, but his heart is beating so fucking hard he’s sure Cas is gonna be able to feel the vibrations on the mattress. He pulls the blanket up to his armpits and rolls onto his side, bending his elbows so his hands curl up under his chin. He’s facing Cas, who is already facing him, and although it’s dark, he can still make out the vague shape of Cas across the bed.

“Hi,” Cas says quietly.

Because it’s adorable, Dean smiles a little. “Hey.”

“We’re in the same bed.”

His smile grows. “I noticed.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

His heart swells when he thinks about being the first one to share this with Cas. “Figured.”

“Is it... weird?”

Seeing as they’re about two feet apart? “It’s a little weird,” Dean admits.

“You’ve done this before, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Is it always this weird?”

He considers lying to put Cas at ease, but ultimately answers with the truth. “No, but I don’t think I’ve slept in the same bed as somebody I wasn’t actually sleeping with in like, ten years. Except for Sam,” he adds belatedly. “And trust me, trying to dodge limbs like his is a whole other ball game.”

“Do you have enough space now?”

Dean chuckles a little. “We could probably fit another person between us.”

_ “That _ is never going to happen,” Cas says firmly, which puts another smile on his face.

“Want me all to yourself, huh?”

As his eyes adjust, he can see Cas blinking tiredly, and his fingers itch to push through that messy hair of his. “You can have as many other friends as you want, just not in my bed.”

“‘s’okay, Cas. I don’t wanna do this with anybody else anyway.”

“You’re sweet.” Cas scooches just a little bit closer, and says, “I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you about something all day, but I wanted to do it in person. I know it’s late, but I really want to tell you.”

His heart starts hammering so hard he can hardly hear over the sound of it. Is Cas gonna tell him he found his soulmate? That he can’t do this kinda stuff with him anymore? Is this sharing a bed thing one final goodbye before he ditches him for good? 

“Good something or bad something?” he makes himself ask.

“I hope you’ll think it’s a good something,” Cas says. He’s not sure if that’s comforting or not, because what’s good for Cas could be disastrous for him. “If you could get your music heard without playing it in front of people, you would do it, right?”

“‘Course I would,” Dean answers, already breathing easier. He thought whatever Cas had to say would be about them, not his music. He can definitely talk about this. 

“A friend of mine suggested making a video,” Cas tells him. 

“A video?” Dean repeats. “For some kind of contest or something?”

“No. Just let me take a video of you playing, and then a friend of mine offered to clean it up with editing if we need her to, and once she’s done, we can post it on YouTube to get it out there. Charlie said she would share it on all of her social media pages, and with the gaming community—”

Charlie, video editing, gaming community? “Charlie Bradbury?” Cas nods and Dean can’t help but smile. Of course Charlie and Cas would be friends, their stores are almost right across from each other. He doesn’t think he’s ever told Charlie about his stage fright, but she’s a fucking genius so he wouldn’t be surprised if she figured it out on her own. “Did she put you up to this?”

“No. I didn’t even realize you knew each other?”

“She was the first friend I met here,” Dean explains. Getting back to the video idea, he muses, “If I went with the video thing, nobody would be better at the tech stuff than her.” 

“Y-you would do it?”

The thought makes him nervous, but it’s nowhere near as bad as the thought of singing up on stage, and he’s tried that more times than he probably should’ve. At least with a video, if he fucks up he can do it over again. And if he hates how he looks or sounds once he sees it, he can decide not to post it. He doesn’t know why he never thought of it before, but it’s a solid idea. 

What song will he play, though? Unless...

As a plan starts to form, Dean asks Cas, “Are you gonna be there?”

“Whatever you want. I would love to be there but I under—”

“I want you there,” Dean says without hesitation. “Just let me sleep on it and I’ll let you know for sure tomorrow, kay?”

“Take all the time you need.” Cas sounds incredibly happy about all of this, and it makes his insides warm knowing that Cas wants this for him so much. That Cas believes in him this much. “Thank you for even considering it. You’re just so, so talented, Dean, and I know once people hear your music, they’ll think so too. You deserve to have your dreams come true.”

Dean shakes his head fondly, exasperated by Cas’s unwavering support no matter what. “What’d I do to deserve _ you?” _

Cas’s smile is soft, but he teases, “You might change your mind about that when I wake you up in less than six hours.”

Dean groans pitifully at the idea of waking up at 6AM on a Friday. “I don’t usually wake up ‘til 7:30. Can I stay ‘til you get back?”

“You can stay as long as you want. I just meant I would probably wake you up when my alarm goes off.”

“Nope. I sleep like the dead.”

“Okay, good.”

“Just wake me up when you get back and I’ll go home and change for work.” Cas nods, but yawns at the same time. “We should shut up so you can go back to sleep.”

“Thank you for coming to the rescue.”

This time it’s him that moves a little bit closer. “Anytime.”

Cas reaches out and places his hand on Dean’s forearm, brushing his thumb back and forth over his bare skin a few times. “Goodnight, Dean.”

It’s such a sweet gesture that he feels like anything he says will ruin the moment, so he stays quiet and lets his smile speak for itself.

They’re far enough apart that it can’t be comfortable for Cas to keep his arm extended like that, but Cas still doesn’t pull it away. It stays there, a friendly, comforting touch that makes his heart flutter harder the longer it goes on. He watches Cas in the dark, wishing he could see his face more clearly and memorize how his long, dark lashes look resting on his cheeks. He doesn’t look away even when Cas’s eyes open every few minutes to look back at him, and instead, feels his heart get fuller when Cas’s soft smile stays on his lips longer and longer each time he checks. 

“Do you always stare so hard at the people you share a bed with?” Cas whispers, not even bothering to open his eyes.

He says the first thing that comes to mind. “Only when they’re as gorgeous as you.”

Cas doesn’t respond, except for his ever-growing smile, and the sudden sensation of Cas’s foot sliding under his own. He has a goofy smile on his own face now, finding it ridiculous but still cute as hell that Cas is fitting the bridge of his foot to the arch of his, and he presses his own foot down gently to let Cas know his touch is welcome.

And for the second time in the last minute, he talks before he thinks. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Cas’s hand on his arm squeezes gently, and the last thing he remembers thinking before he falls asleep is whether or not it’s possible to smile in your sleep.

Castiel wakes before his alarm, feeling a heavy weight across his shoulders that startles him until he opens his eyes. Even though he and Dean started on opposite sides of the bed, they definitely didn’t wind up that way. No. Dean is on his back and Castiel is on his stomach, curled up on Dean’s shoulder. Dean has his arm slung over Castiel’s back, Castiel’s is sprawled lazily across Dean’s belly, their legs are tangled together, and his heart has never been happier.

He was afraid if he got too close to Dean last night that it would be awkward, and even though a part of him had wanted to offer to let Dean put his arm around him like they did on the couch, he didn’t want to blur the lines anymore between them than he already had. So although it was difficult with Dean calling him gorgeous and sweetheart (why does that endearment make his heart turn to mush every single time?), he had fallen asleep on his own side of the bed firmly in the “friend zone,” and he’d been proud of that.

But he clearly made the wrong decision, because if snuggling up to Dean in bed feels _ like this, _ there’s no way not doing this was right. They can’t even stay away from each other when they’re unconscious, and the thought makes him feel pleased and proud and secure. They really are meant to be together. Soulmates through and through, and if Dean decides to make the video today, he can _ finally _ tell him. Then once Dean is done being mad at him (which might take a few days, or longer. Regardless, he’ll wait) they can fall asleep _ and _ wake up like this as often as they want to.

The thought has joy filling him head-to-foot, and even though a part of him wonders if he should move out of Dean’s arms now that he’s awake and he knows Dean didn’t consent to this, he feels sure enough that Dean would welcome it that he stays right where he is until his alarm goes off. True to his word, Dean doesn’t move a muscle when the loud sound fills his bedroom, and Castiel finds it endlessly endearing that the only time Dean budges at all is when he tries to extract himself from Dean’s arms. Dean pulls him closer and buries his nose in Castiel’s hair, making a quiet, happy sound that is absolutely the cutest thing he’s ever heard. He wishes he could stay wrapped up in bed and Dean’s arms all day long, but his alarm goes off again and he knows he needs to move. 

Once again, Dean tries to pull him closer, but Castiel whispers, “I’ll be right back,” and Dean lets him go with a quiet grumble. He’s not even out of the bed before Dean rolls over into the warm spot he left behind with his face pressed flat to the mattress, and Castiel loses a few more minutes just standing there and taking in the sight of Dean’s breathtaking form filling his bed. He has no idea what Dean was talking about when it comes to his body, because when he’d come out of the bathroom without a shirt on last night, Castiel had felt a stronger physical attraction to the man than ever before.

Admittedly, Dean’s stomach is a little soft right in the middle, but it’s nowhere close to off-putting. He had thought at the time that it would feel nice to run his hands over the slight swell of his belly to feel the difference between the softness there and the rest of Dean’s firm muscles, and when he woke up with his hand right there, he knew he was right. He didn’t allow himself to caress Dean’s stomach or slip up to his strong chest, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Even now, just looking at Dean’s broad shoulders makes his blood heat up, and as much as everything else inside of him is urging him to climb back into bed with Dean where he belongs, he turns away to get some clothes to change into for his run.

“Dean.” Dean makes a sound low in his throat. “Dean, wake up.”

Dean doesn’t want to wake up, but he _ does _ like that low, rough voice. A lot, actually. And even though he isn’t fully awake, he knows he wants it closer, so he reaches out blearily to pull him in, getting a handful of some soft, slightly damp material that confuses him enough that he opens one eye.

Which is when he sees his fingers are curled into a pair of black, jersey shorts, and as he flicks his gaze upwards, a red-faced Cas with his sweaty hair hanging down into his eyes. His shirt is soaked through with sweat in several places, and Dean can literally smell the raw, masculine scent of a good workout all over the man in front of him. 

It makes him think of a good, hard fuck, and sure as hell doesn’t help with the morning wood he woke up with. It takes a monumental effort on his part not to drive his hips down into the mattress beneath him.

“‘m I dreaming?” he quips, making Cas laugh.

“Is this the kind of thing you’d usually dream about?” Cas asks, sounding amused.

“No,” he admits. “You’re wearin’ too many clothes.”

Cas laughs again, but sadly takes a step back. Dean keeps his one eye on him as Cas swipes at his forehead with the back of his wrist. “I need to grab a shower. Do I need to pull you out of bed or are you actually awake now?”

“‘m up, _ mom,” _ he says darkly.

Cas huffs another laugh, starting towards the bathroom. “If you’re still here when I get out of the shower, you’re in big trouble, mister.”

The bathroom door closes then, so he doesn’t bother trying to get his slow-working brain to come up with anything to say. He rolls over and lies on his back for a few minutes more, stretching out his spine and noticing with a shock that _ nothing _ hurts like it usually does when he wakes up in the morning. Maybe the aches and pains he suffers through most days is from the mattress he’s been sleeping on for as long as he can remember with a dip the size of a basketball in the middle of it and not because he’s creeping towards thirty. 

Regardless, it’s time to drag his ass outta bed and start the day.

Once he gets home, he discovers his basement apartment is one degree shy of actual hell, but thankfully the cold shower helps just enough to get him out the door with two Pop Tarts and a hastily thrown together paper bag lunch. He gets a text from Sam before he pulls into his parking spot at work, finally cementing plans for this weekend now that Jess’s other plans fell through. He hears from Cas around lunch, tells him Sam and Jess want to do dinner, and when Cas tells him he’s in, he doesn’t know if he’s more scared or excited.

Because he’s been thinking about what Cas asked him about making a video all morning, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to give it a shot. What’s even more, is that he thinks he knows what song he’s going to sing. He’s been working on something in top secret for Cas since he left Cas’s place on Monday night. He basically turned his plea for Cas to give him a shot into words for a song, and the music had come to him just as fast. 

After waking up in the middle of the night to find the two of them cuddled together more intimately than anybody he’s _ actually _ slept with, he’s more confident than ever that if he just gives Cas the right nudge, he can convince Cas to be with him. Since he knows how crazy Cas goes for his music and watching him play the guitar, he figures the video tonight can be his shot. He can play the song he wrote for Cas for the first time _ for _ Cas.

And it really will be the first time, because he’s composed the music in his head and written all the lyrics down, but he hasn’t actually sung it out loud yet. It’s probably stupid, but he feels weird about the idea of his soulmate hearing the song he wrote for Cas before Cas does (not to mention the undeniable twinge of guilt he has thinking about his soulmate hearing it at all), so he’s been really careful not to sing it. He _ almost _ did about fifty times this week, but he’d started singing his soulmate song out loud instead to distract himself, and that worked surprisingly well.

So for the first time in his life, he’s going to play something for somebody without even practicing first, and it’s gonna be for Cas. Since Cas is the only person in his life who has believed in him when he wasn’t obligated to, it seems fitting. It seems _ right, _ the same way having Cas in his arms last night had felt. 

Going over the words to the song in his head over and over makes the day go by quickly, and before he knows it, it’s five o’clock and time to clock out for the weekend. He heads straight to Sam and Jess’s apartment after work, wishing Cas wasn’t so stubborn and he could have him in the passenger seat where he already feels like he belongs. 

Sam yells for him to come in after he knocks on the door, and he does a quick sweep of the apartment to see if Cas is there or not yet, only to find he beat him.

“No, he isn’t here yet,” Sam says from the couch. Then, “Hey, you brought your guitar!”

“Yeah, Cas and Charlie put their heads together and want me to make a video I can post on YouTube.”

“Oh wow,” Sam says quietly. “That’s actually a really good idea. And you said yes?”

“Figure I’ll give it a shot,” Dean says. He sits on the loveseat, hoping he’s doing okay at hiding how he’s ready to crap his pants with nerves over the whole thing. 

“What are you gonna play?” Jess asks, walking in from the kitchen to join him and Sam in the living room. “It better be the pie song!”

He smiles at her genuine enthusiasm. “I, uh, actually wrote something new I was thinking about playing, but I’ve never sang it before.”

“Oh?” Jess asks. She leans on the back of the couch and looks him straight in the eye. “And just what exactly inspired this new song?” He looks away, knowing just from the way she asked that she already knows. “Dean,” she chastises him. “I thought we talked about this and agreed you falling for Castiel is only going to get you hurt?”

“We did.”

“And?” she asks.

Dean shrugs, and Sam, the bastard, joins forces with Jess. “Did you stay away from him all week so we could hang out as a group?”

There’s no point trying to lie when he knows Cas is on his way here. “Not exactly.”

Sam turns to Jess and smiles smugly. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“Screw you,” she says back, and Dean glares at them both when he realizes what just happened.

“You bet on me?”

“Yep,” Sam says, not sounding ashamed in the least. “She thought you’d do the smart thing and stay away from him, but I know you better than that.”

“Did anything happen?” Jess asks.

“This is your boss you’re askin’ for dirty details about, by the way,” Dean reminds her. “But no. Nothing happened.”

“But you wanted it to,” she deduces.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says firmly. “We talked about it—”

_ “You _ talked about it?” Sam asks in disbelief. “About your feelings for Cas? _ With _ Cas?”

“Yeah, and it fucking sucked, by the way,” he tells them, which makes them both laugh. “He said he likes me too, but he’s stickin’ to his guns. No kissing, no hand holding, nothing outwardly romantic.”

“So you’re still just friends?” Sam asks.

Dean shrugs, thinking about how Cas had said it probably wasn’t fair to call them that. “Mostly.”

“What’s ‘mostly’ mean?” Jess questions. 

Thinking of how Cas had curled up in his arms last night, he answers, “It means he says he wants one thing and acts like he wants the total opposite, so I think I still have a chance. Singing him this song tonight’s the best shot I’ve got to make a big, romantic gesture so he changes his mind.”

“But he has a soulmate,” Sam reminds him. Then like he just remembered, he adds, “So do you!”

There’s that twinge of guilt again, but he covers it up with an emphatic, “So what?” For someone who’s been obsessed with the idea of having a soulmate his entire life, he’s sure as fuck sick and tired of hearing about them now. “That means I have to sit around being miserable until I meet him? It could be _ years. _ I could be with Cas, I could be _ happy, _ for years before I find my soulmate.”

“And then what? Then you break each other’s hearts when you have to leave to be with somebody else?” Sam points out, not unkindly.

“You don’t know that,” he says quietly.

Sam looks confused when he echoes, “What do you mean I don’t know that?”

“Who said we _ have _ to?”

Sam and Jess look at each other, clearly not getting it. “Why wouldn’t you? Your soulmate is your perfect match, Dean.”

“Says who?” he challenges. “Just because somebody can hear me sing in their head doesn’t mean they’re perfect for me.”

“That’s... literally what soulmates are,” Sam says gently.

“I get that you guys think that and why, but I’m just saying... I don’t know my soulmate yet and I don’t know when I will, right? But what I do know for damn sure is that Cas is fucking perfect for me _ now, _ and even if I can only have him for a day before he leaves me for somebody else, I don’t care because it’ll be better than another day without him.”

He didn’t mean to say all that, and judging by the surprised looks on their faces, they weren’t expecting him to say it anymore than he was, but keeping everything locked inside all the time when all he wants to do is shake the living daylights out of Cas until Cas gives him a chance is obviously starting to take a toll on him. He’s embarrassed as hell, and the wide-eyed, slack-jawed look Sam is giving him has him considering just getting up and walking out of the apartment altogether. 

“Well.” Jess is the one who breaks the silence, and he can tell from her smile that she’s on his team before she elaborates. “I’m not saying it’s the smartest idea you’ve ever had, but it’s really romantic that you like him that much.”

“He’s just...” Words fail him, and he shrugs uselessly. “Everything just feels better when he’s around.”

Jess lets out a soft, “Aw,” and Sam shakes his head.

“I think it’s a terrible idea and you’re both gonna get hurt, but you’re never gonna listen to me anyway, so just be careful.”

“Wear condoms?” Dean jokes. Sam screws up his face, and Dean chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful.” Then, wanting to change the subject to something safer, he asks, “What’s for supper?”

“We’re making pizzas,” Sam answers him. “The dough’s all ready and the toppings are chopped up, so we’ll all just make our own.”

“Must be nice to be able to cook without sweating your ass off,” Dean says.

“The offer’s still open for you to move into the spare room,” Jess tells him. “Then you could cook without sweating your ass off, too.”

Thankfully, there’s a knock on the door that interrupts him having to turn them down for the hundredth time. Living here would be _ worlds _ better than his shitty apartment, but Sam and Jess need their privacy, and so does he. 

“Hello, Sam.”

He turns his head towards the sound of Cas’s voice and is treated to the sight of Cas in aviator sunglasses, a yellow t-shirt that makes his skin look sun-kissed gold, black cargo shorts, and flip flops. He’s never seen him so dressed down, and the guy looks _ good. _

“I brought spinach dip to go with the pizza,” Cas says, handing Sam a covered dish. 

“Awesome!” Sam exclaims. “Come on in.”

“Thank you,” Cas says. He kicks off his sandals, and then his eyes fall on Dean. His smile changes from a tight, polite little thing to something much softer, just for him. “Long time no see,” Cas says, sitting down nice and close next to him. He smells like sweat and sunscreen with just a hint of that old book scent mixed in, and each breath in puts him at ease a little bit more. This is what he was talking about before—having Cas next to him is just better than sitting by himself. 

“You had to bring vegetables, huh?”

“I did,” Cas says without apology. Then Cas nods his head towards Dean’s guitar case. “I saw you brought your guitar.”

Dean lowers his voice so Sam and Jess won’t be able to hear him, and says, “This really hot guy I spent the night with talked me into doin’ something crazy later.”

Cas lifts his sunglasses off and puts them on the table, hitting Dean with his blue, blue eyes in the process. “He must care about you a lot,” Cas whispers back.

“Okay, okay, what’s all the whispering about?” Jess asks impatiently.

“Cas was just asking me for a blowie in the bathroom,” Dean lies. It’s worth it to hear Jess laugh so loud and to see Cas’s jaw drop, and even worth the backhand he gets across his chest from Cas. 

“Clearly, he’s lying,” Cas tells Jess.

Jess lifts her hands in surrender, and says, “Whatever you two get up to in your own time is none of my business.”

He refrains from pointing out that’s not what she was saying before Cas got here, and instead keeps his attention firmly on Cas. “Well, whaddya say Cas?” Dean teases.

“I say you’re confusing reality with a dream again,” Cas replies, getting a snort of laughter from both him and Jess. “That reminds me, I got an email from my landlord and the air conditioning is working again.”

“Your air went out in _ this?” _ Sam asks, reentering the living room. “What’d you do?” 

He appreciates that Cas just looks to him instead of answering, because he knows Cas probably isn’t sure how much he should say about the two of them. “I brought him over the one I have at home, and I just bunked at his place last night.”

“That way neither of us was uncomfortable in the heat,” Cas explains.

“Aww, that was nice of you,” Jess says to Dean. 

“He was a lifesaver,” Cas confirms, looking at him like he saved a baby from a burning building. “But he can have his unit back now so he doesn’t have to suffer at home.”

“I’ll drive you home when we're done here, then grab it on my way if that works?” he checks with Cas.

Cas hits him with a sideways smile. “Anything so that I don’t have to walk, huh?”

“It’s hot out, if you didn’t notice,” Dean defends.

Cas gestures to his shorts and bare feet. “Which is why I dressed appropriately.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you didn’t say anything to Castiel for wearing shorts, jerk,” Sam says. 

“What’s wrong with wearing shorts?” Cas wonders.

“Dean says only douchebags wear shorts,” Sam tells him.

“No, I said _ you _ look like a douchebag in shorts, and I stand by that,” Dean corrects.

“That’s not very nice,” Cas comments.

Dean shrugs. “He’s my brother, I don’t hafta be nice to him.”

“Do I look like a douchebag in shorts?”

“‘course not,” Dean says quickly. “Yellow’s totally your color. You look hot.”

Sam makes gagging noises, so Dean gives him the finger. Jess breaks up the inevitable fight before it can begin and asks Cas about his day. Cas starts to tell them a story about a customer named Hannah, and as soon as he says her name, both Jess and Sam start laughing. 

“What’m I missing?” Dean wonders.

“Hannah has a big fat crush on your boyfriend,” Sam tells him.

Though it costs him, he mutters, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“What did she ask you to help her find today?” Jess asks.

It’s probably not a coincidence that Cas’s knee presses against his when he starts to tell her that Hannah was looking for the first book in the Crossfire series. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jess interrupts him. “Aren’t those books a better version of Fifty Shades of Grey?”

“That’s what I’ve heard, though obviously I’ve never read either,” Cas answers.

“So this chick who has a crush on you was basically asking you to help her find porn?” Dean asks, wanting to make sure he’s got this right.

“Pretty much!” Jess cackles with laughter. “This is gold! What happened?”

Dean tells himself he isn’t jealous the whole way through the story of Cas helping Hannah find the books and ringing her up, but the way his hands are clenched into fists at his side is probably a good indication that he isn’t being totally honest with himself.

“Was she doing the flirty thing the whole time too?” Jess asks. She turns to Sam and demonstrates. “Touching your chest, running her hand down your arm, playing with her hair.”

“Yes, all of that, and this time...” Dean purposely isn’t looking at Cas, but that doesn’t mean he can’t tell Cas just looked at him, especially since Sam and Jess look at him at the same time. “She wrote her phone number on the receipt and left it on the counter.”

“Oh my god!” Jess shrieks. “Props for being that ballsy though. Especially after you’ve turned her down how many times?”

“At least a dozen,” Cas answers. “I feel bad because she seems like a nice lady, but she’s just wasting her time with me.”

“I could say something to her the next time she comes in,” Jess offers. “I can just make sure soulmates come up and tell her you have one you’re waiting for. I can make it seem like it’s just casual conversation instead of me letting her down easy for you.”

“If you think you can do that without it coming across as unprofessional, I would really appreciate it,” Cas admits. 

“Or, we can have Dean spend the day at the bookstore, and when he starts giving the look he has on his face right now to everybody who flirts with you, people will get the idea pretty fast,” Sam snarks. Jess gives him a shove and the two of them start having a whispered argument he looks away from, only to see Cas looking almost guilty for what he's said so far.

“There’s nothing happening between me and Hannah to warrant that grumpy expression, you know,” Cas says softly. “I can hardly stand Hannah when she gets like that.”

“Yeah, well, maybe she should keep her unwelcome hands to herself then,” Dean says darkly. 

“One can only hope,” Cas replies, and that makes him feel a little bit better. 

“Too bad there’s like, five books in that series,” Jess comments.

Cas hits her with a bland look. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“Time to take a vacation,” Dean tells him, and Cas laughs.

“Not all of our customers are that bad. I like most of them, actually.”

“Who’re your favorites?” Jess asks him.

That gets the three of them started on another animated conversation, and Dean realizes he needs to spend some time at the bookstore so he knows who the hell everybody’s talking about. Cas must realize that he feels left out, because he brings the conversation around to Netflix, and they start talking about You instead. Thinking about watching that with Cas lifts his spirits, and things go back to normal between the four of them until Sam brings the spinach dip out for everybody to mow down on.

Spinach dip turns into pizza making, and he’s probably happier than he should be when he sees Cas is more of a meat guy like him than a vegetable guy when it comes to pizza toppings. Cas adds onion and green peppers to his, but other than that, their pizzas are identical. 

It should not be endearing to watch Dean eat an entire pizza by himself, but when he remembers how good Dean’s solid belly had felt beneath his palm last night, he finds himself looking at him with all the adoration in the world. He can tell Dean’s happy here with his brother and Jess, more relaxed and in his element than he’s seen him otherwise. It’s kind of crazy that he, Jess, and Sam have inside jokes outside of the friendship (relationship?) he has with Dean, and it makes him feel like he fits in with them well. Not only does he belong with Dean, but he belongs as a part of what’s left of Dean’s family, too. 

It all makes him extremely happy, and combined with Dean putting his arm around the back of the loveseat and dropping onto his shoulder every now and then, he wouldn’t be surprised if his smile was permanently etched onto his face at this point. After Sam and Jess beat them at Trivial Pursuit, Dean leans over and reaches for his guitar, and Castiel’s heart starts beating a mile a minute.

Sam is talking about a legendary game of Pictionary he and Dean played with Jess and Jo, and Dean laughs and adds in commentary while he tunes his guitar and starts playing short little riffs every now and then. Sam and Jess continue to talk over him, and while Castiel listens as well as he can, he can’t help but give more of his attention to Dean than they seem to. Each time Dean flicks a nervous look his way, he smiles encouragingly, and he knows he’s probably annoying Dean with the dozen knee pats he’s given him, but he just wants to comfort him and encourage him as much as he possibly can.

Finally, there’s a lull in the conversation, and Dean says, “So when’re we doin’ this video or whatever?”

Castiel almost falls out of his seat. “You want to do it now?”

“Why, is now not good?”

“No, it’s great! I just, I thought we might film it on my balcony because Charlie said natural light would look best.”

“We can use the patio,” Sam offers. “It’s not dark yet, and we’ve got those—”

“Fairy lights!” Jess exclaims. “Dean can sit on the bench, and it’ll just be the wooden fence behind him with the fairy lights over his head.”

Castiel receives a questioning look from Dean, and he nods his head. “That sounds good to me if it’s good for you.”

Dean licks his lips, but nods as well. “Alright, let’s get my ass out there before I change my mind.”

Castiel follows him closely when Dean stands and walks out the back door to the patio Sam mentioned. The heat hits him like a slap to the face after the cool air conditioning, and he figures Dean is experiencing the same thing when he says, “Son of a bitch.”

“If it’s too hot—”

“Nah, I’m doing this now,” Dean decides. “It’ll only take a couple of minutes.”

“Let me set it up for you,” Castiel offers. Together, they move the bench against the fence like Jess suggested, Castiel replaces a few burnt-out bulbs with ones that will be out of the frame, and then Dean sits in his chosen seat. Castiel sits across from him with Dean’s phone in his hand, and swipes to video to see what it looks like on camera. 

The lights are a nice touch, and of course Dean looks gorgeous sitting there in well-worn jeans a plain black t-shirt. 

“Looks good,” Sam says, coming out to join them.

“Looks amazing,” Jess corrects. “Let me just...” She walks up to Dean and does something to his hair, making it look messier but somehow twice as sexy. 

Dean looks at him for confirmation that it looks good, and all he can manage to do is nod and mutter, “Uh, yeah. You look—it looks good. Really good.”

“So, go?” Dean asks.

Castiel looks at the camera again and curses himself when he sees how badly his hand is shaking. He’s barely looked over his shoulder to ask for help when Sam says, “Let me.”

“My hands are shaking,” Castiel explains to Dean as he moves over to make room for Sam front and center.

“Welcome to the club,” Dean says, and Castiel gives him his best reassuring smile. 

“You can do this. We can stop and start over as many times as you need to,” he reminds Dean.

“Might need to, ‘cause, uh.” Dean looks at Sam and Jess quickly, then back to him, licking his lips. “I’ve never sung this out loud before. I wrote out the words and all the music, but I wanted you to be the first one to hear it.”

He’s certain his heart has stopped beating.

“M-me?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, you. This song is for you, Cas. It’s called ‘One Good Reason.’” Dean looks over at Sam and says, “Roll ‘em, Sammy.”

He hears the quiet beep of the video starting, and Dean looks down at his guitar while he starts picking slowly at the strings on the guitar. Dean doesn’t lift his head when he starts singing, but that’s probably a good thing because Castiel can’t even begin to try to hide his shock when he realizes that Dean was right, that he’s _ never _ heard this song before.  
  
_“Goin’ through the motions but,  
__you got me at a fork in the road.  
__Tryin’ to make decisions,  
__based on who I am and who I was.  
__I can see you’re hurting,  
__but I can’t go left and I can’t go right.  
__You’re the only one that I want.” _

Dean lifts his eyes then, and Castiel would swear to everything he believes in that he can feel his heart tumble to his feet. Dean hits him with one of those cocky smiles that always makes his pants feel a little too tight at the crotch, but when he starts singing again, he forgets that as he turns into a pile of mush.

_“Come up with one good reason,  
_ _and we will stay just friends.  
_ _Make my head stop spinning,  
_ _and I’ll give you up._

_ Convince me that it’s hopeless,  
_ _and I will tell you good luck.  
_ _Just gimme one good reason,  
_ _and I’ll step outta your way.” _

This sounds like the musical version of what Dean said to him on the phone the other night, and just like it did then, it manages to break his heart and fill it up at the same time.

_"You say you’re keepin’ secrets.  
_ _Well, everybody does sometimes.  
_ _You say that I don’t get it and I have to wait,  
_ _but you’re worth it every day.  
_ _I can list a thousand things and how they might all go wrong,  
_ _but you’re the only one that I want.” _

Dean repeats the chorus again, which is good, because this is something he’s already heard and that means he’s finally able to catch his breath. But then Dean looks him straight in the eye again when he starts the bridge, and every final shred of composure Castiel had been clinging to dissolves into nothing.  
  
_ “Try and tell me that I can’t love you right,   
__Tell me I can’t make your smile bright,  
__and I’ll give up this fight.  
__But I can feel it when I look at you.  
__Sweetheart, I know that you feel it, too,  
__I can see it in the blue, blue, blue.”  
  
_His eyes are filling with moisture now, partly because Dean’s right and partly because the idea of Dean thinking he doesn’t feel how Dean feels is enough to make him want to cry. Dean’s voice is so quiet when he starts up again that Castiel can tell how hard this must be for Dean to put himself out there like this again—in front of Sam and Jess, and on video this time, too—and he can’t stand it for another second. 

_“Give me one good reason,  
_ _I'll stop believin'.” _

He’s on his feet before the music comes to a complete stop. For the first time since he’s met Dean, he follows his heart instead of his brain, and without overthinking every move he makes, he finds himself sitting directly next to Dean on the bench. He looks Dean in the eyes, seeing so much affection and hope inside of them that Castiel forgets absolutely everything else except for how strongly he feels for Dean. The next thing he knows, he's cupping his hand around the back of Dean’s neck and pulling him in until his mouth meets another for the first time in his life. 

Dean’s lips are deliciously moist and pillow-soft, and even though he has no idea what he's doing, they still fit together with his like a dream. All of the nerves he thought he would have in this moment are completely non-existent, replaced with acute arousal and a soul-deep sense of belonging. Dean’s familiar scent fills his nostrils, and along with the supple _ give _ to the full mouth he’s been trying not to think about since the first moment he first saw it, it’s all absolutely dizzying in the best possible way. All of that plus the contrasting sensations of the day's worth of stubble on Dean’s face and the plushness of his lips is enough to have tiny sparks of pleasure exploding down his spine. 

He exhales a shaky breath against Dean’s lips that comes out like a pleasantly surprised, _ “Oh." _

Dean's hum of agreement is only _just_ audible over the sound of his heart beating in his ears, and then Dean is moving back in for more. Dean doesn’t try to deepen their kiss like he was afraid he would, Dean just cups his face and gently urges him a little bit closer before capturing his bottom lip between his own. He quickly discovers it feels amazing and exciting and brand-new every time their lips move together, and when the pressure between their mouths increases, the pleasure ramps up with it, making his insides quiver from Dean’s confident ministrations. 

By the time Dean starts to bring their first kiss to an end, Castiel realizes he’s been anchoring himself to the back of Dean's neck as if he might float away without it. He’s glad Dean keeps their foreheads pressed together once their lips separate, because with Dean’s hand still cupping his jaw and his thumb caressing the curve of his cheek, Castiel definitely needs a moment to catch his breath. He can hardly believe that just happened. _He kissed Dean. _ His heart is racing like he just ran a marathon, adrenaline is coursing through his body, and when he thinks about how perfect that just was, he can’t keep himself from smiling. Being with Dean is what made it perfect. _ Dean _made it perfect. 

When they finally put enough space between them so that he can see Dean’s face, he gets an eyeful of the most breathtaking smile he’s ever seen, and his addled brain struggles to make sense out of the fact that a man as gorgeous as Dean is smiling like that because of him. 

“That worked even better than I thought it would,” Dean says quietly, and Castiel blushes so hard his ears are burning.

“And I may have gotten the whole thing on camera,” Sam says, interrupting their moment and reminding Castiel that they’re not alone.

Unfortunately, with that reminder comes clarity, and the gravity of the situation comes crashing down on him when he realizes how badly he just fucked up.

“Oh no,” he whispers. Horrified by his own actions, he pushes away from Dean and shoves his hands into his hair. “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

“Hey, nobody has to see it,” Dean says, sliding close enough so that he can put his arm around him. “We can edit it out.”

“No. No, no, no,” Castiel chants. He’s in a full-blown panic now, knowing without a doubt that Dean will _ never _ forgive him for kissing him while he was keeping such a big secret from him. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t supposed to kiss you. I got so caught up in the moment—I felt so much—but I-I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sor—”

“Don’t,” Dean rasps out, flinching away from him like Castiel just burned him. “Don’t you dare apologize for that.”

“I’ve been _ lying _ to you!” he shouts. He surges to his feet, feeling absolutely disgusted with himself that he let this go on with Dean for two weeks without telling him the truth. “You don’t even know me. None of you do!”

“Castiel,” Jess starts timidly, like she’s trying to talk down a rabid animal or something. "Of course we know you. We're friends, right?"

_ Oh god, _Jess saw, too. She’s going to hate him when she finds out what he did to Dean. He’s going to lose her as a friend, maybe even an employee, and it’s all his fault. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry.” Because Dean looks pissed, he explains, “I’m not sorry for the kiss, it was—” His voice softens, because as mad as Dean’s going to be in a few seconds, he should know that that kiss was worth waiting for. “It meant _ everything _ to me. It was more perfect than I ever imagined it could be, and so much more than I deserve.”

“That’s great and I'm real happy for you, Cas, but can we back up a little bit? What have you been lying to him about?” Sam asks, his voice sounding hard and accusatory. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been lying to Dean. To all of you,” he says to Sam and Jess, “and I hope you’ll forgive me in time, but who I’m really concerned about right now is Dean.” 

He turns back to face him and drinks in the sight of him for what he knows might be the last time in a long time.

“Can you guys give us a minute?” Dean asks Sam and Jess. They look suspicious and like the last thing they want to do is leave, but they walk back into the house and close the door behind them without a word. “So?” Dean prompts him.

He takes one final, last breath, then he _ finally _ tells Dean the truth. “I know who my soulmate is. I’ve been keeping it from you because I thought—”

“You know who your soulmate is?” Dean interrupts. Castiel nods, but instead of looking murderous like he thought Dean would, Dean looks cautiously optimistic. “You know who it was and you... you still chose me?”

“I—” He did, technically, choose Dean, but it wasn’t an either or situation. It seems Dean has already come to his own conclusions, though, because Dean's back in his space with his hands on Castiel’s hips and such a big smile on his face that he can’t force out any other words. 

“You know who it is and you still kissed me?” Dean asks. 

_ Oh no. _ “Y-yes, but—”

“I don’t care,” Dean cuts in. “You want to be with me and I want to be with you, and I don’t care about anything else, okay? Nothing else matters.”

He shakes his head, because he knows Dean’s only saying that because he doesn’t know what he’s keeping from him. “Dean, this is important. I didn’t tell you because—”

“Cas.” There’s something startlingly vulnerable in Dean’s eyes now, and it shuts him up when he knows he should just keep talking over him, just to finally get it all out. “Just let me have tonight, okay? You wanna get whatever this is off your chest, I get it, and I'll listen to you tell me all about it tomorrow. Just let me have this win, man,” Dean implores him. Dean laughs breathlessly, like he can’t quite believe what he’s about to say. “I played a song I’ve never played before _ for you _ without fucking it up, it got recorded so we can post it online and actually get my music out there, and the guy I’ve been flirting with for two weeks finally kissed me for the first time. And it was fucking perfect, right? So just... please let me go out on a high tonight. Okay, sweetheart?”

He knows even as he’s doing it that he’s making his third unforgivable mistake, but after hearing Dean lay it all out like that, what else could he possibly do besides nod along?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW, okay? But we are SO CLOSE now!


	8. Chapter 8

Dean barely steps back into Sam and Jess’s place before Sam’s questioning him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Cas was pretty worked up a few minutes ago, so he’s not totally sure that’s true, but right now he’s telling himself what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Knowing that there’s no way Sam is going to let it go with just that has him adding onto his story, though. “You can stand down, soldier. It’s just something he knows about his soulmate that he didn’t tell us, but it has nothing to do with you.”

Sam looks less than impressed, but he doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Cas does.

“I’m really sorry I overreacted before,” Cas says. “I don’t expect you to understand, but there’s just... a lot going on right now.” 

Cas is still standing partially behind him, like he feels he needs Dean to shield him, and although he doesn’t know why, he is more than willing to show Cas he can protect him if he needs him to. 

“You don’t gotta tell them everything about your life just because we’re, uh, whatever,” Dean finishes lamely. _ Friends _ certainly doesn’t fit anymore, but he doesn’t know what other term Cas would be comfortable with, so he just leaves it as it is. 

“Still,” Cas says quietly.

He wraps his arm around Cas and tucks him in nice and close to his side. 

“If that’s all this is, then no hard feelings,” Sam answers. Dean puts on a brave face, trying to ignore the spike of fear he feels hearing _ if that’s all this is, _ because he knows it’s not. 

“And I think it’s pretty normal not to talk to your employees about this kinda thing,” Jess says, sounding amused. 

“I thought we crossed the line from colleagues to friends?” Cas questions.

“Obviously,” Jess laughs. “I was just trying to give you an easy out.”

“I appreciate it,” Cas replies, but it doesn’t really sound like Cas means it.

“Well, the good news is that the video looks good,” Sam tells them both. He hands Dean back his phone with a tight smile that he knows means Sam's not as okay with this as he said. “And the song was great, Dean.”

“I get if you guys don’t want to share that kiss with the whole world,” Jess starts, “but I’m just sayin’, watching the video over made it clear that you were singing to just one person, and seeing Castiel come into the frame and kissing you afterwards is probably the best advertising you could hope for.”

It had been a chaste enough kiss that he wouldn’t feel weird about people seeing, but he’ll have to ask Cas about it before he makes any kind of decision. “We’ll have to watch and see how it looks,” he answers. “But we’re actually gonna call it a night. I still gotta get my stuff from Cas’s place, and Cas is like a grandpa who likes to be in bed at ten.”

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night because the air went out so late,” Cas explains. “But thank you so much for inviting me. I had a lot of fun, and the pizzas were delicious, too.”

“Absolutely anytime, with or without Dean,” Jess tells Cas. “If I don’t see you before Tuesday, I’ll see you at work.” Then she turns to Dean, and says, “And you? You’re cooking your burgers the next time you come over. I have a craving.”

“Done deal,” Dean promises, steering Cas towards the front door. “See you later, guys. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He hears Sam snort with laughter as he closes the door behind them, and leads Cas towards the driveway where the Impala is waiting for them. “Leather’ll be hot but it cools down quick,” Dean warns him.

They get into the car, and Cas’s body language changes immediately. His shoulders slump, his chin hits his chest, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think Cas was trying to fold in on himself. “Thank you for getting me out of there. I’m so embarrassed about the way I was shouting earlier I could hardly look at them.”

Dean chuckles a little. “Dude, the more you get to know us, the more you’ll see you only have to worry when we _ aren’t _ shouting.”

Cas doesn't seem comforted by that at all. “But Sam kept looking at me like he was waiting for me to pull a gun or something. I've never seen him look at me like that before."

Apparently Cas is a pretty perceptive guy. “Yeah,” he agrees reluctantly. “But it’s not personal. It’s just... me and Sammy are probably more protective of each other than we need to be now that we’re not kids anymore, but it’s a hard habit to kick. Nothin’ to worry about though, okay? He knows you’re important to me, so he’ll get over it.”

Cas stays quiet for the drive back to The Loop, and doesn’t say much while they ride the elevator up to his apartment, either. They walk through the door silently, and Cas plops onto the couch with his head back on the cushion, expelling a big, sad-sounding sigh that makes his heart hurt.

He hasn’t been invited to stay, but he kicks off his shoes and sits down next to Cas anyway, pulling him into his arms and just holding him close. Cas tenses at first, but Dean rubs soothing circles between his shoulder blades, and Cas starts to relax bit by bit. He can feel Cas’s body starting to go lax against his, and he smiles when Cas snuggles into his shoulder and wraps an arm around his waist. 

He knows there’s gotta be more to Cas knowing who his soulmate is for him to be this upset, but as stupid as it might seem, he meant it when he said he wants tonight to stay a good night. So he’s going to do whatever it takes to cheer Cas up so that he can see him smile again by the time he leaves.

“How about you go change into your pjs so you’re nice and comfy, and then we snuggle up with that blanket you love so much and watch some TV to get your mind off of whatever’s bugging you before bed?” he suggests.

“I don’t deserve to take my mind off it,” Cas says miserably.

“But I’m askin’ you to anyway,” Dean reminds him. “For me.”

“You’ll hate me for it tomorrow,” Cas warns him.

There’s undeniable fear gnawing at his insides, but he feels like he _ just _ got Cas. He finally got to kiss him after wanting to for two fucking weeks, he can finally hold him like this without constantly reminding himself it’s not supposed to mean anything, and maybe he’s gonna regret it later, but he isn’t ready to let Cas go yet.

“Then let me have tonight.”

“And you won’t be more mad at me if I give you what you want?” Cas asks.

“Nope. You’ve got a _ get out of jail free _ card for tonight, Cas.”

“But—”

“Nope,” Dean interrupts. “Just for tonight, pretend there’s no secrets. No lies. No soulmates. Just me and you, right now, in the moment. Can we do that?” he asks, and Cas’s head nods just enough to let him know that even though he’s reluctant, Cas is going to give in the way he wanted him to. “So pjs,” he suggests again. 

Dean watches him with a heavy heart as he walks away and then pulls out his phone to watch the video for himself. He sees what Jess means about him clearly singing to Cas. He thought he had looked down more, but it turns out he’d been looking at Cas almost the whole time. And Jess was right about the kiss, too. The surprise is written all over his face, the quiet determination all over Cas’s, and he’s sure that even without having to spell it out, people will be able to watch this and know this was their first kiss.

With the way Cas has been acting since, he just hopes it won’t be their last.

When Cas comes back into the room, he’s wearing pjs with little slices of pizza on them. “Figured it was appropriate,” Cas quips, and Dean has to laugh. “Brought you the ones you wore last night in case you want to get more comfortable, too.”

“That’s awesome, thanks.” He hops up to go change quickly, and in no time, he’s back in his seat next to Cas. Cas is the one who throws the blanket over both of their laps, and Dean aims a fond smile down at him. Their eyes catch, and he feels himself pulled in the same way he has every time they’ve fallen into eye contact since they met. Except this time, there’s a chance Cas might be okay with him doing something about it. “Can I kiss you again?” he asks. “And it’s okay if it’s a no.”

There’s an apology in Cas’s eyes that he’s come to recognize as the look he gets before he’s shot down, but then Cas’s mouth presses into a tight line, and he replies, “If it’s just you and me tonight like you said before and we’re forgetting about everything else, then yes. I want you to kiss me.”

Dean’s smile flashes, and he swoops in with every intention of kissing him as soon as he possibly can. But Cas’s fingers clench in the front of his shirt, and his eyes go as wide as saucers, and Dean realizes he needs to take this nice and slow. 

“Just like before,” he tells Cas. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, okay?”

Cas nods shakily, but closes his eyes and tilts his face up in a silent offering that cuts him to the bone. Instead of moving right in for the kiss like he was going to initially, he leans in past Cas’s lips and rubs their cheeks together. There’s a pleasant scratchy feeling of their facial hair scraping together, and Cas lets out a quiet sigh at the sensation. Dean smiles, places a kiss on the bolt of his jaw just beneath Cas’s ear, and watches as goosebumps pop up along his skin. 

“This okay?” he whispers, his breath purposely ghosting over the shell of Cas’s ear.

“Yes,” Cas whispers back. 

Dean hums happily before he plants another kiss an inch away from the last one, right on the line of Cas’s stubbled jaw, and a third following the path he’s started down towards his chin. Cas has already relaxed in his arms, so he opens his mouth a little so the next kiss is slightly more wet. Cas’s fingers tighten their hold on his shirt, but he doesn’t make any indication he wants Dean to stop, so he nudges Cas’s chin up just a little bit to place the next kiss on the tender, scruffy skin underneath. 

Cas is breathing hard now, and he doesn’t want to overwhelm him with too much too fast, so he drags the flat of his nose up his cheek before he gently kisses the corner of Cas’s mouth. He lets his lips brush oh-so-gently across Cas’s to get to the other corner, which he kisses as well, and it’s a real testament to his control when Cas’s pink lips part so perfectly for him. 

He wants to _ devour _him. But instead, he runs the backs of his knuckles along the side of Cas’s jaw he hasn’t kissed yet. “You are so gorgeous, Cas.”

Cas’s face is already flushed, either with embarrassment or arousal (and he sincerely hopes it’s the latter), and he thinks he knows which when he hears how wrecked Cas’s voice is. “I thought you were going to kiss me?”

“I did,” Dean teases, leaning in again to kiss the tantalizing dip just beneath Cas’s lower lip. Cas angles his chin down, searching for Dean’s lips, and he’s enough of a tease to press his next kiss to his cheek instead.

“Deeean,” Cas whines. And _ jesus christ, _that’s a pretty sound. It makes his brain run through all the different ways he knows he can make Cas feel good, make Cas want more, make Cas whine his name just like that again and again. “Kiss me,” Cas begs. 

And that’s officially as long as he can stand to drag it out. 

He slides his hand back into Cas’s hair, winding his fingers through it to tug just a little so that Cas’s mouth pops open again, and that’s when he finally seals their mouths together. He makes sure to keep it chaste despite the fire burning prematurely in his veins, but with Cas’s lips already parted, it’s more of a mouth-half-open kiss than tightly closed the way it was the last time. He keeps his lips still for a few seconds, letting Cas get used to the sensation, and then he applies pressure and gives him a little smooch. 

Cas is clearly on board, his lips mimicking Dean’s without any further prompting, so he strokes his fingers through Cas’s hair as he pulls back to kiss him a second time, tilting his head just a little bit more to the side. Cas mirrors him, and when their lips align just right, he earns his first sound of pleasure from Cas, which hits him like an arrow of desire straight between his legs. 

Cas’s lips are wet and Dean’s desperate to get a taste of him now, so he sneaks just the tip of his tongue out to touch the seam of his lips. Cas flinches slightly and he relaxes his hold in his hair so Cas can pull back if he wants to, but instead, he gets the shock of a lifetime when he feels Cas’s tongue prod curiously at his lips only a second later. His blood is boiling and it physically pains him to pull away now, but he told Cas he wouldn’t do anything more than they already did, and he doesn’t want to break his word.

He only withdraws only enough to murmur against his spit-slick lips, “More?”

Cas nods as much as he can with their lips so close together, and Dean growls quietly in his throat when he brings their mouths back together. He kisses Cas several times, applying pressure and backing away so Cas can do the same, patiently waiting for Cas to be the one who opens his mouth and darts his tongue out again before Dean follows his lead. The next time he feels the tip of Cas’s tongue pass the seam of his lips, he touches it with his own and feels an electric shock of arousal jolt through his body. 

He’s never had these kind of sparks with anybody from just a kiss in his fucking life, and knowing that he’s sharing this with Cas when Cas has never done this _ at all _has a possessive thrill rolling through him, only increasing how incredibly hot this is. The tips of their tongues touch again and again before Dean pushes more of his tongue into Cas’s mouth, letting it caress Cas’s more fully but still slowly, then coaxes Cas to follow him with a subtle curl of his tongue. Cas does, tentatively and unsure at first, but when Dean lets out a throaty sound of approval, Cas must gain some confidence, pulling a genuine, full-blown moan out of Dean with a surprisingly deft flick of his tongue.

Knowing he needs to cool this down before he gets carried away, Dean breaks the seal of their lips, panting against Cas’s mouth. “Jesus christ, Cas. You’re a hell of a fast learner.”

“Was that—was that okay?” Cas asks him, sounding just as worked up but also shy and unsure.

Dean strokes down the side of his face to settle his nerves, and because he can’t resist, he leans in to brush their lips together one more time. “Any _ more _ okay and I think my whole body would’ve went up in flames.”

Cas huffs out a nervous-sounding laugh, and because they’re so close, he can hear it when Cas swallows thickly before he speaks again. “You’re just saying that.”

“Wouldn’t be hard to prove I’m not, but I don’t think you’re ready to move below the waist already,” he jokes.

“I’m not, b-but—” Cas drops his forehead to his, and the hand that had been wound in his shirt moves up to roam over his shoulder a lot like he did the night he was high, giving him incredibly vivid flashbacks of how Cas felt in his lap. “H-how do you ever stop kissing when it feels this good?”

The innocence of the question makes his dick twitch where it’s conveniently hidden beneath the blanket. “I made you feel good, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t know if he’s more surprised or turned on when Cas’s voice hitches. “Y-yes.”

Cas is so fucking responsive that he feels like he’s going to lose his mind with how badly he wants to learn every little thing he can to make Cas feel better and better. Like a moth to a flame, he turns his head so he can nuzzle at the base of Cas’s neck. Cas’s hand travels slowly down his back, feeling around before splaying flat on his tailbone and pulling him closer. Dean takes the invitation for what it is and moves in more so that their chests are touching, starting to pepper kisses up and down the length of Cas’s neck. 

“You like when I call you ‘sweetheart?’” Dean guesses.

“Yes,” Cas answers again, breathless and sexy as hell without even trying. “I-I think about it s-sometimes... when I’m a-alone.”

And if Cas just meant what he thinks he meant, there's a very real chance that he’s going to come in his pants like a fucking teenager. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he groans.

Cas’s free hand guides Dean’s mouth back to his neck, and he’s grinning at Cas being bold enough to go for what he wants when he opens his mouth and starts leaving wet kisses along Cas’s skin. He searches for any spot that makes Cas’s breathing change, and within minutes, he’s found a hot spot just to the right of his Adam’s apple that has Cas squirming beside him and panting hard while Dean works his tender flesh with his lips, teeth, and tongue.

It’s Cas who leans back and pulls Dean’s mouth down to his lips urgently, and then their lips are crashing back together with their tongues joining in right away this time. Gravity plus leather means Cas slowly starts sliding down the back of the couch while they keep kissing, hot and heavy, until Cas is flat on his back with Dean looming over him. Cas pushes his hands up the back of Dean’s shirt, and the whimper Cas lets out when his palms skirt up from Dean’s waist to his shoulders is the sexiest fucking thing he’s ever heard. 

He wants to eat him alive, to suck on his tongue and scrape his teeth along that full bottom lip until it’s puffy and swollen and Cas is trembling beneath him. He wants to suck a big, fat bruise into Cas’s neck, then pound on his own chest and roar to the whole fucking world that Cas _ is his. _ Cas _ chose _ him, and he’s not gonna let him go. 

He’s gonna take such good care of Cas, in bed and out of it. He's going to write him love songs, hold him all night every night, and make sure there’s not a day that goes by that Cas doesn’t know he’s everything he’ll ever need. He wants to spend hours learning every possible way their mouths fit together, mapping Cas’s body with his hands, lips, and tongue, and he wants to lean back and watch the awe and surprise on Cas’s face when he tells him how perfect he is while he strokes that pretty cock tenting his pajamas to orgasm for the first time from somebody's touch other than Cas's own. 

What he _ actually _ does is hold his body up and away from Cas’s, carefully keeping their groins from coming into contact. He knows it’s going to be over for both of them the second their cocks slot together with only two thin pairs of pajama pants between them. In fact, he should probably start to slow this down. He should stop first so he doesn’t put Cas in a position where he has to ask. 

He definitely shouldn’t do what his body is trying to tell him to do—to line up their groins and grind down against Cas, swallowing his choked-off sounds of pleasure as he teaches Cas exactly how to move with him until he feels the warmth of Cas’s cum spread between them.

_ Fuck. _ He needs to get a grip. He needs to stop. But he really needs to _ come, _too, and fuck, it’ll be so hot to see Cas lose it for the first time because of him. He squeezes his eyes closed to stave off the thought and wrenches their mouths apart while he still can. 

“We should—we should stop.” Except that’s when he gets his first look at Cas in the throes of passion, and a pitiful sound escapes him before he can rein it in. Cas’s eyes are wide with wonder, dark and heavily-lidded. His cheeks are rosy, his lips are kissed-swollen, and Dean has never been more attracted to anybody a day in his life. “You are so fucking hot, Cas. You’ve got no idea how much I want you.”

“I want you, too,” Cas croaks out, and holy shit. If he thought Cas’s voice was wrecked before, it’s nothing compared to the grit that’s in it now. “But you’re right. We should stop.” Dean nods, but he takes a few more seconds to sear this image into his brain before he moves. “Is it weird that I like having you on top of me?”

His throat clicks audibly as he pushes himself up to sitting before he does something stupid like lie down on top of Cas to give him what he obviously wants. “Total opposite of weird. Pretty much perfect, actually, and close enough to my dirtiest fantasies that I gotta pretend you didn’t say that so I don’t give into those big blue eyes of yours right the fuck now.”

Cas laughs breathlessly and pulls himself up so that he’s sitting too. Cas reaches for the blanket to cover their laps again, and he’s glad for it so that he isn’t tempted with the visual of how hard they both still are. “Thank you for stopping. I got a little carried away.”

_ “You?” _ Dean asks incredulously. “I only meant to kiss you.”

“That’s basically what we did,” Cas points out. “We just ended up horizontal.”

“I’m just sayin’, that’s not what I had in mind when I asked for another kiss. I was thinking more like what happened outside. I don't want you to think I sat here with you to try to get you to make out with me.”

Cas’s lips quirk. “We made out?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean replies, and now Cas is smiling fully. “What?”

Cas shrugs, but he seems incapable of wiping the smile off of his face. “I made out with somebody. With _ you. _ The book nerd inside of me is kind of bursting with pride.”

Dean laughs a little, wrapping his arm around Cas again now that he feels like he can touch him without risking jumping the dude. “Well then you should definitely know those were some of the hottest kisses I’ve ever had.”

“Really?” Cas asks, sounding even more proud of himself.

“No lie,” Dean promises. “But if we ever wanna move this blanket, we should probably stop talking about it.”

“That’s probably not a bad idea,” Cas agrees. “I know you think I’m an old grandpa who likes to go to bed at ten, but will you stay for a little while longer? I don’t want you to go yet.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, smiling softly. “It’s a Friday night, why not live a little?”

“More You?” Cas asks.

“I’m in.”

They watch two episodes, bringing them to just past eleven o’clock, and even though Cas is obviously fading fast, he insists on watching one more since episode six ends on a cliffhanger. Since Dean’s so comfortable and warm with his arm around Cas and Cas leaning so heavily against him, he agrees, and episode seven begins.

They’re less than ten minutes into it when Dean comments on John Stamos as Beck’s therapist and Cas doesn’t answer him. “Cas?” he asks. No response. He checks one more time, a little bit louder. “Cas?” Still nothing.

His heart feels like it’s going to burst when he realizes Cas fell asleep with his head on his shoulder. He pulls him a little bit closer and uses the top of his head as a pillow, resting his cheek on Cas’s fluffy hair and breathing in the scent of his sweet-smelling shampoo. Before long, he’s so focused on the sound of Cas’s steady breathing that the TV becomes background noise and everything fades away except for how perfectly content he feels.

This is all he ever wanted from Cas. All he’s ever wanted _ period. _ No more fighting the connection they have, and instead, enjoying each other’s company, taking comfort in each other’s arms, and, well, maybe a little bit of making out every now and then wouldn’t hurt either. It’s so fucking easy to close his eyes and imagine another fifty, a hundred, a thousand nights spent just like this, and without even knowing whatever it is that Cas is hiding from him, he knows it’s not gonna matter because it doesn’t change _ this. _

Nothing will.

This is what he always thought finding his soulmate would be like, and now that he has it, he couldn’t care less about finding the real deal. He’s sure his soulmate is a nice guy—though he really does have to talk to him about Cotton-Eyed Joe—and as much as he never, _ ever _ thought he’d say this after pining for one his whole damn life, he’s happy without him. 

Because of Cas.

Hell, if it weren’t for Cas, he wouldn’t be on this high right now from finally _ accomplishing _ something with his music for once. He never would’ve filmed that video tonight without Cas. Now he can send it away to Charlie and have her fix it up a bit, and within a week he could actually have his music out there for people to listen to, like or dislike, share or shred to pieces. And with Cas by his side, encouraging him every step of the way with those too-honest, big blue eyes of his, he feels like he might even be able to handle whatever people say, good or bad. 

He owes Cas so much. More than Cas will ever really get. And whenever the snuggly little guy wakes up, he’s gonna take a leap of faith and tell him he’s officially off the hook. He’s gonna tell Cas all he wants is to make Cas as happy as Cas makes him, and he can’t think of a better way to do that than to make Cas stop worrying about that damn secret. He’ll tell Cas how much he means to him, how much he cares about Cas, and that he forgives Cas for whatever he lied about as long as Cas can promise him they can move forward with no more secrets. 

By this time tomorrow, they’ll both be happy, and if he’s really lucky, maybe he’ll be able to call Cas his boyfriend.

Castiel wakes up with the world’s biggest crick in his neck, and apparently, still slumped against Dean on the couch. He glances blearily at the TV, sees Netflix is stuck on the, “Are you still watching You?” screen, and knows they’ve been asleep for a while. As much as he hates to wake Dean, there’s no way he can go back to sleep with his neck hurting like this, so he carefully extracts himself from Dean’s arms.

Unfortunately, like last night, Dean reaches for him and falls sideways heavily, almost knocking their heads together in the process. He gets his hands up to hold Dean back in time, which is when Dean’s eyes flutter open and he squints at him.

“Fell asleep on the couch,” Dean grumbles.

And he’s so, _ so _ cute all sleep-rumpled and tired-looking that Castiel leans in to kiss his forehead. He wants to curl right back up on Dean’s chest and feel his arms around him all night long, but he can’t. But then it occurs to him that he’s already done it once before, so what’s the harm with one more night? He’s going to tell Dean everything first thing in the morning, and who knows how long it will be until he gets this chance again. His mind is made up.

“Come to bed with me.”

“I can go,” Dean offers. “Just need to wake up a lil.”

“I want you to stay,” Castiel tells him. 

He stands and pulls Dean to his feet, and there are no other arguments while the two of them walk through to his bedroom, leaning heavily against each other the whole way there. Without discussing it, they both shed their shirts, Dean gets in on his side of the bed, Castiel gets on his own, and they meet in the middle. 

There’s no pretense over sharing a bed but staying on opposite sides of it this time. They both know that’s not what either of them want. 

Castiel cradles his head in the crook of Dean’s shoulder, sighing happily when Dean’s arms come around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He feels lips brush his hair, he kisses Dean’s bare shoulder in response, and he’s out like a light.

He wakes up before Dean in the morning. Even without his alarm set, he doesn’t generally sleep very late on the weekends because he finds it throws off his whole sleep schedule. The clock on his wall tells him it’s 9AM, which is actually a pretty decent sleep-in for him, but since he doesn’t know how late Dean sleeps and he’s perfectly happy lying in Dean’s arms until Dean wakes up, he snuggles back in and closes his eyes.

He must doze off, because the next thing he’s aware of is a big, warm hand rubbing soft circles between his shoulder blades. He hums his pleasure at the sensation, and hears Dean’s sleep-rough voice greet him, “Morning sunshine.”

He rolls over halfway, onto his side, and feels like the breath has been stolen from his lungs when he gets his first look at Dean. He looks so unbelievably beautiful with his hair tousled, his cheeks pink with sleep, and a golden brown shadow on his chin and above his lip where his facial hair has grown-in overnight. 

Before he can think coherently enough to say good morning back, Dean is leaning in to brush their lips together, soft and so heart-achingly sweet that even the sour morning breath creeping into the air around them can’t ruin the moment. Dean pulls away first, and the two of them lie on their sides, just looking at one another in the morning light in his bedroom. 

He _ loves _ this. He wants to wake up like this every day for the rest of his life. 

Though he has no memory of actually deciding to do it, he finds himself tracing the shape of Dean’s face with his fingers, running his finger tips over the freckles under Dean’s eyes and the bridge of his nose. Because Dean only looks back at him with a soft look in his eyes and a slightly more pronounced blush on his cheeks, he also brushes his fingers over Dean’s eyebrows, down his jaw, and across his lips. They’re too tempting to resist once he feels them beneath his finger tips, so it’s him who initiates their next kiss, finding himself no less awed at how beautifully their lips align now than he was at any point last night.

His hand winds up on Dean’s shoulder, his thumb following the pronounced path of his collarbone, when Dean starts his own journey of Castiel’s face. Dean seems to hone in on smaller details, like the groove that connects his upper lip to his nose, the space between his eyebrows, the bolt of his jaw, and the dip beneath his bottom lip right above his chin. Dean also brushes his fingers through his hair, and that’s the point where Castiel’s eyes slip closed and he all but melts into the mattress. He always enjoyed having his hair washed and styled anytime he got a cut, but he had no idea how much better it would feel when someone he cares for touched it just because he wanted to. 

His heart is full and his insides feel soft and mushy, and even though he has no real way of knowing, he’s sure this is what it feels like to fall in love. The thought doesn’t scare him half as much as it probably should. Instead, it feels like there’s sunshine inside his body, bright and warm, and he wants to lie here and live in it for as long as he possibly can.

“I like waking up with you.”

_ “That _ is a service I am happy to provide anytime,” Dean answers. And with that, he discovers he would really like to hear Dean’s voice roughened with sleep every morning, too. “Your mattress is fucking aces, man. I’ll stay any day, anytime.” 

Castiel huffs out a soft laugh, but unfortunately, the mention of _ any day _ is what reminds him that today is a new day. The weight of the decision he made about telling Dean the truth today crashes into him like a tidal wave, and he can feel his chest get tight and his throat starting to close up as panic builds inside of him.

“Dean, I—I really have to tell you something.”

“Don’t freak out on me, sweetheart.” His heart is already thumping dangerously hard when Dean pulls him in close enough so that he can kiss the top of his head. “I gotta tell you somethin’ too, but before we bare our souls here, where do you keep your coffee?”

“I don’t have coffee here.”

Dean looks like he just told him he thinks the earth is flat. _ “What?” _

He shouldn’t find this as adorable as he does, but he’s barely holding back a grin when he explains himself. “I’m sorry, I just drink what’s at work once I get there. I have some tea that might help?”

_ “Tea?” _ Dean asks, sounding as if the suggestion has personally offended him. “Dude, no. Nuh uh,” he repeats. “I don’t function without caffeine in the morning on a good day. We ain’t doin’ whatever this is without it.” Then, to his dismay, Dean throws the blanket off of himself and swings his feet over the side of the bed. He was enjoying being all snuggled up with Dean in bed. Although admittedly he’s a little less upset when he sees the view that awards him of Dean’s broad shoulders and the hundreds of freckles covering them. And to think he just spent the night curled up with _ that? _ “I’m gonna go get me some coffee, grab us both all the sugary baked goods we can eat, and then we can talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel agrees. “I’d like to shower while you’re gone, so take my keys with you in case I don’t hear you try to get back in.”

“Deal.” He watches Dean pull his discarded t-shirt back on, then Dean changes into his jeans in the bathroom and stops to kiss him once more on his way back through. “I’ll be right back. And don’t work yourself into another tizzy when I’m gone, okay? Everything’s gonna work out.”

Because he’s almost certain that isn’t true, all he can do is drop his gaze and nod his head. He waits for Dean to walk out to the living room, listens for the sounds of him putting his boots on and the door closing, and only then does he get out of bed and head for the bathroom. His stomach is in absolute _ knots _ now that he knows what’s coming, but he works hard to keep his mind blank while he heats up the water and strips out of his pajama bottoms.

He’s barely stepped into the water when the sound of Dean’s voice starts ringing through his head, and just like that, he’s smiling to himself, thinking about Dean being so happy he’s singing on his way to get coffee. He wonders if Dean sings when he drives, except he’s not singing along to the radio right now, because Castiel can hear the chorus of what he’s come to think of as the soulmate song. But this time there’s a few changed words.

_I know you’re the key made for my lock.  
_ _You didn’t even have to knock.  
_ _One look and we felt it click.  
_ _I’m wide, wide open,  
_ _For you._

He lets the blooming warmth in his chest and familiar tune soothe his nerves while he goes through the motions of showering, and before he’s even aware of it, his shoulders have relaxed and he’s breathing much, much easier.

Maybe Dean’s right. Maybe everything will work out.

Dean’s singing quietly to himself in the empty elevator, amusing himself with how much _ Lock and Key _ ended up being written about Cas instead of his soulmate, when he digs for his car keys and notices he grabbed Cas’s keys but not his own. How the fuck is he supposed to drive to the coffee shop without them?

He shakes his head at his own bonehead move and hits the up arrow as soon as the elevator arrives on the main floor, then keeps right on singing while he goes back up. He hasn’t woken up in this good of a mood without coffee in _ years, _ and he knows it’s all because of who he woke up next to this morning.

That's definitely something he can get used to.

He uses Cas’s keys to get back into the apartment and stops in the doorway, trying to think back to where he last had his keys. Not in his pocket, not on the coffee table, not on the couch. After remembering that he took them out of his jeans when he changed in the bathroom last night, he heads that way, knowing that there’s no way Cas will be out of the shower yet so that there’s no need to call out and spook him.

His keys are on the end table on Cas’s side of the bed since that’s closest to the bathroom, so he walks over to grab them. When he hears something coming from the bathroom, he stops to strain his ears to try to pick up what it is. It sounds like Cas is humming, which is surprising since he knows Cas doesn’t know a lot of music. He doesn’t want to be a perv and invade Cas’s privacy, but he knows Cas won’t care if he hears what he’s humming, so he takes a few steps closer to the bathroom door and cranes his ear towards it.

There’s a split second of pride when he hears that out of all the songs out there, Cas is humming one of _ his, _ but the joy is rapidly replaced with confusion when he realizes he hasn’t played _ Lock and Key _ for Cas before. He would never, since that's the song he started writing with his soulmate in mind. He hasn’t even finished writing it yet, and he’s never played it for _ anybody, _ so how the hell—?

The keys in his hand fall to the floor as the truth slams into him like an 18-wheeler.

The only way Cas can possibly know that song is if—but then—Cas would _ never—_would he?

_ Oh fuck. _

The thing! The _ thing _ Cas has been keeping from him, keeping from him and warning him this whole time that he would hate Cas for it. Wait. 

_ I know who my soulmate is. _

Was it the whole time? Maybe Cas just figured it out. How long could he have known, really? But... The Roadhouse. _ Literally _ the first fucking night they met, Cas sat there at a booth with Sam and listened to Dean make a fucking asshole out of himself on stage and he must’ve heard him in his head at the same time. He’s—goddammit, he’s sung that stupid song a _ million _ times since he came of age for a soulmate, so Cas had to have known it was him the second he started singing it, and Cas never told him. 

_ Why? _

Why wouldn’t Cas tell him?

... unless Cas didn’t want him to be his soulmate? 

But that doesn’t make any sense either, because he knows that Cas does want him, that Cas has wanted him from the first time Cas laid eyes on him and tripped over his own two feet. He doesn’t get it. It doesn’t make any frigging sense. Why wouldn’t Cas tell him? 

It’s hard to think straight with his mind going a million miles a minute, but what were the explanations Cas gave him before about why they couldn’t be together? 

_ There are more important things. Things I have to accomplish first. _

Now he’s bewildered all over again, because what the hell does _ that _ mean? Cas has a spiffy apartment, he’s graduated university already, and he’s going to own his own fucking store someday soon, so what else could he possibly want to accomplish first?

Cas’s humming suddenly seems louder than ever, and that’s when he notices that he can’t hear the water running anymore. He’s been standing there, back propped up by the wall next to the bathroom for god knows how long, and Cas is about to come out. 

What the fuck is he going to do? 

He’s barely had the thought when the door swings open, and Cas takes one step out of the bathroom with a towel slung low around his hips. Cas must see him in his peripheral vision, because his head whips towards him, and the song Cas was _ still _humming dies in his throat. Cas’s eyes go as wide as he’s ever seen them when Cas realizes what just happened, and actually seeing Cas react like he just got caught in a lie is what makes the truth finally start to sink in. 

Cas has been lying to him. 

Since the day they met. 

Cas—Cas snuggled with him on the couch, listened to him pour his heart out about how he wanted to be together even if they weren’t soulmates, spent the night with him, kissed him, and _ made out with him _ all while keeping the most important detail of his own life from him?

Dean knows he’s gotta be in shock, because the one thought that rings clear as a bell through his head when they finally make eye contact is: _ There he is. There’s my soulmate. _

And then his legs give out on him. 

He slides down the wall and falls to his ass, only distantly aware of Cas’s worried voice saying his name over the buzzing in his head. And although his voice sounds like he swallowed broken glass when he speaks, Dean says, “Put some damn clothes on. We gotta talk,” before he buries his face in his hands and tries to fight down the rage steadily bubbling up inside of him like a volcano ready to erupt.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see end of chapter notes for content warning. Because I don’t want to accidentally trigger or cause emotional hurt to anybody, I have now tagged this fic as** “dubious consent” **for this chapter only. If you have questions, please feel free to ask me directly and I’m happy to walk you through what happens!

This is a million times worse than Castiel ever imagined it would be. 

Of all the times he thought about how Dean might react to finding out the truth, he was never able to accurately imagine the look of utter heartbreak and betrayal that had been all over Dean’s face right before he slid down the wall. He never banked on the vacant look in Dean’s eyes, and he certainly wasn’t prepared to hear the emotionless tone of his voice, knowing all the while that a decision _ he made _ is responsible for both. 

He’s so _ stupid. _ Why would he hum that song knowing that Dean was coming back? He didn’t expect him back so soon, but he knew it was a possibility. He thought he was safe, though, because if different parts of the song were still getting stuck in his head, that must mean Dean was still singing somewhere, and if Dean was in his bedroom singing, he would hear him. But he must have lost track of how long the last verse was in his head, and he just kept humming it like an _ idiot. _

He has a hollow feeling in his chest now, his hands are shaking, and after fumbling to get his boxers on under his towel to protect his modesty, he’s somehow managed to miss the leg hole of his jeans three different times. He ultimately has to sit on the edge of the bed to successfully pull them on, and then he grabs a random t-shirt and wrestles it over his head. He doesn’t even bother running a hand through his hair to attempt to fix it before he carefully approaches Dean where he hasn’t moved from his spot on the floor. 

“Dean?” he tries. As he suspected, he doesn’t get an answer. Dean has his head in his hands, so he can’t see his face anymore. Selfishly, a part of him is glad because that means he doesn’t have to see that broken expression anymore. “Do you want to go sit in the living room where we might be more comfortable?”

Dean still doesn’t speak, but he shakes his head side to side in a silent _ no. _

“Can I sit with you?”  
  
No response.

Trying to think optimistically, Castiel tells himself no answer is better than a flat-out refusal, and so he slowly lowers himself to the ground next to Dean. When Dean still doesn’t say anything, he situates himself with his back to the wall, copying the same way Dean is sitting. He gets the feeling that anything he says right now is going to be the wrong thing. But sitting here in silence when they’re both clearly in so much agony is more than he can stand, and so he says the one thing he’s wanted to say since the second he saw Dean standing outside the bathroom.

“Dean, I’m so, _ so _sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Dean lowers his hands to turn his head slowly towards him, and Castiel feels his heart sink when he gets a look at the unmasked fury in Dean’s eyes. “This is how this is gonna work, okay?” Castiel can’t help but flinch at the scarily-low tone of his voice. “I’m gonna ask the questions, you’re gonna answer them, and if you lie to me right now—if I even get an _ inkling _ that you _ might be _ lying to me—I walk out that door and never look back. Capice?”

He knows it’s pathetic, but his eyes are already watering. He never thought he’d hear Dean talk to him this way, and it’s not that he doesn’t deserve it, he just didn’t know it would hurt so badly that his stomach aches. 

“Yes. Capice,” he replies hoarsely.

Dean’s expression doesn’t change a single bit, but Castiel does notice his shoulders relax slightly. “How long did you know?”

“I suspected right before you got on stage at The Roadhouse, but I didn’t know for sure until you started singing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to.” When Dean’s eyes narrow dangerously, Castiel continues quickly. “That first night, I mean. As soon as you got off stage, I got up to go over and tell you, but I overheard you talking to Sam. You said the only person who could possibly like the train wreck of your performance is your soulmate, and only because they wouldn’t have a choice.”

“So?”  
  
For a moment, Castiel only blinks, surprised for the first time by the question. “So I wanted to tell you how wonderful you are, but I knew if I told you that we were soulmates that you would dismiss my opinion. Then we started taking shots and I thought that I should probably wait until we were both sober to tell you.”

“But you didn’t.”

Castiel swallows hard. “I didn’t. I kept meaning to, like at the movies when it came up, but then I told you... well, that I’m a virgin... and I was too embarrassed to say it out loud after that.”

“And what about the next time? And the time after that?”

“I—I told you I needed to tell you something about soulmates when you came over the first time, and you said you needed to play for me before you lost your nerve.”  
  
“Oh, gimme a break.” Dean’s voice is scolding and full of disbelief. “If you really wanted to tell me you should’ve just interrupted me or something. Those’re excuses!”

“They’re not!” Castiel argues. “I wanted to tell you, Dean. You have _ no idea _ how badly I wanted to tell you. But I knew your music was more important to you—”

“What?” Dean interrupts. “Why the hell would you think my music is more important to me than you?”

Castiel gapes at him. “I _ asked _ you. I asked if you could have anything in the world, what would it be? And you said your songs on the radio. You didn’t say anything about a soulmate, or me.”

“I didn’t even know I _ had _ a soulmate then!” Dean exclaims, suddenly pushing up to his feet. “I barely even knew you but I wanted to say you anyway, and I—I felt like a fucking psycho for falling for you so fast ‘cause it made no damn sense and you _ knew _ all along and you never told me?” Castiel stands as well, following Dean cautiously while he paces the bedroom. “I was ready to turn my fucking back on my actual soulmate because of how much I cared about _ you, _ Cas, and you thought I’d rather have my music on the radio? Like I wouldn’t’ve given up my guitar and my—my voice and every damn song I’ve ever written just to know you were mine?”

He had no idea Dean felt that strongly about him, and hearing him say those words _ now _ has him stopping in his tracks and his reply coming out as barely more than a whisper. “I knew you liked me, but I—I didn’t know it was like that for you.”

Dean seems to deflate a little bit himself, and when he speaks, his voice is closer to what Castiel is used to hearing. “I was gonna tell you this morning. I was gonna tell you I didn’t care what you were hiding from me, ‘s long as you didn’t lie anymore.” Dean steps towards him, closing the distance between them until they’re within arms reach of one another. He aches to step forwards even more, to hold Dean and tell him a million times how sorry he is, but he doesn’t know if Dean wants that or not. Dean’s voice is quieter still when he continues, “I just—I just wanted to be with you. I wanted to be with you so bad the whole damn time, but... you... you knew what we were, and you chose something else over me every damn time you had the chance.”

The pain etched so clearly into Dean’s features has him stepping closer without thinking about it. “No,” Castiel disagrees. That’s not what he did. That’s not what he was trying to do. “I chose to do what I thought would make you happy even over my own happiness. Y-you have no idea how much it hurt being with you but not really being with you. It _ killed me _ every single time I had to say no to you. All I wanted was you, Dean. You have to believe that.”

Dean shakes his head gently, angling his face towards the ground. “I don’t know what to believe.”

“Believe that I meant it when I said I would have chosen you as my soulmate if I had a choice,” Castiel implores him. “I’ve never—I’ve never felt like this about anybody before. I never thought in a million years it could be as good between us as it has been, from the very first night we met. I’ve never felt more complete, more safe, more right than I do when I’m in your arms. None of that was a lie.” Dean’s head lifts halfway, and he takes that as an invitation to keep talking. “I _ know _ you know that. You sang it to me last night.” He takes a chance and slowly lifts his hand, using his crooked knuckle to lift Dean’s chin so that they have eye contact. “You could see it in my eyes, right?”

This close, he can see Dean’s eyes shining as he looks back at him. He looks_ broken _ and Castiel feels it like a knife to his heart. 

“Why’d you have to lie?” Dean’s voice is young-sounding and so incredibly vulnerable that his heart crumbles even more. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, dropping his hand to make a fist at his side. He’s so mad at himself. He thought about all of this so much, and he truly thought he was doing the right thing, but he can see now he must have been wrong if it’s causing Dean so much pain. “I’m sorry, Dean.” 

He doesn’t want to cry, but the weight of his regret is staggering, and he can hardly stay standing let alone keep his emotions at bay. The first and second tears fall rapidly, one after another, but he ignores them because he knows he has another dozen apologies to give. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Cas, c’mon,” Dean says gently. “Don’t cry, man.”

Wanting to give Dean anything he asks, Castiel wipes the tears from his face, even as new ones fall to take their place. “I knew—I knew you were going to be so mad, and I knew it was wrong to lie to you, but I swear I thought your music was more important to you. I just w-wanted to help you. I just wanted you to be happy. I n-never wanted to hurt you. Please... please believe me.”

When Dean looks away again, he can’t hold it in anymore, and he starts to cry even harder. He knows there’s nothing more he can say that he hasn’t already said, and obviously, what he’s said so far doesn’t matter. Either Dean doesn’t believe him, or maybe even worse, Dean does believe him but it doesn’t change anything. His knees start to feel weak with the weight of his distress, so he stumbles back and sits heavily on the end of the bed, his hands resting uselessly on his thighs as tears continue to stream down his face.

He messed this up so much more than he thought he would, and he doesn’t even know what to say to fix it. 

He broke it. He broke what he and Dean had before it even started, and there’s nothing left to do now but cry out the pain, the regret, the fear, and the heartache. His tears seem to go on and on, not helping anything in the least, but not easing up at all either. He has no idea how long he sits there crying as close to silently as he can, with Dean still standing in the middle of the room looking down at the floor. 

It isn't until some time later that Dean finally lifts his head and looks in his direction. It’s the first time either of them has moved in what feels like a really long time, and it startles him enough that some kind of choked-off sob escapes him. As soon as it breaks free, it seems impossible to keep the next one at bay, and then these embarrassing, pathetic-sounding sobs start coming out along with every exhale. His shoulders shudder with them and his nose runs like a faucet, and if he had anywhere else he could go to cry with some dignity, he would go there. But this is his apartment, his bedroom, and he can’t think of anywhere else he could escape to.

He’s wiping his face for what must be the hundredth time when he feels the bed dip beside him. 

“Take it easy.” Dean hasn’t spoken in so long that the sound is jarring, despite the gentleness of his tone and the Kleenex he hands him. “Passin’ out on me is just gonna drag this out longer.”

Castiel wipes at his nose before he replies. “I’m not g-going to pass out.”

“You are if you don’t get a good breath. Look at me.” Castiel shakes his head, knowing that seeing Dean looking either angry or heartbroken is only going to make him feel worse. 

“I can’t. I know I deserve it, but I don’t w-want to see you look at me like you h-hate me.”

“I don’t...” Dean sighs heavily. “I don’t hate you.”

He looks up for that, relaxing slightly now that his worst fear has just been laid to rest. _ Dean doesn’t hate him. _Dean certainly doesn’t look happy, but it’s closer to tired and confused now than it was to heartbreak and anger like before. “Maybe you should.”

“I don’t know what I feel yet,” Dean admits, looking away again. “One part of me is so fucking pissed that you kept this from me for two weeks, ‘cause that means you lied to me every friggin’ time you looked at me.” Castiel opens his mouth to try to protest that, but Dean’s expression softens so he bites his tongue. “Another part of me sorta gets it, why you thought what you did. I mean, you were dead wrong, but I guess I can see why you thought it since you can’t read my mind. And another part of me is yellin’ at all those other parts to shut up... ‘cause at the end of the day, this is what I wanted all along. I wanted to be with you.”

“I wanted to be with you, too. I still do.” Just knowing Dean cares about him enough to try talking again fills him with enough hope to make his silent sobs come to a stop. “Even if you walk out of here like you said you might, I always will. I won’t want anybody else.”

“If anybody else touched you, I’d kill them,” Dean says fiercely, and the possessive note in his voice makes Castiel’s stomach flip. He looks to Dean in surprise, and _ finally, _ Dean’s looking back at him. They make eye contact for the first time in what feels like hours, and the fire in Dean’s eyes sends goosebumps down his spine, but this time, it’s not because he’s scared. “You’re mine.”

Castiel can only nod, afraid that if he so much as opens his mouth without thinking first that something completely incoherent will come out. 

“I’m pissed, Cas, but I’m—I’m not ready to just... The idea of anybody else _ ever...” _ He huffs out an angry-sounding breath that turns into an honest to god growl. “You’re _ mine.” _

Before Castiel can even think to stop him, Dean swoops in and captures his lips in a passionate kiss. It catches him off guard, but it’s not like he’s opposed to kissing Dean. In fact, as Dean’s lips start to move against his, hot and insistent but still so incredibly soft, the fear that has been souring his stomach begins to disappear. _ Dean’s kissing him. _ Dean’s hands slide into his hair, and the familiar touch soothes him even further, tells him along with Dean’s persistent kisses that even if Dean’s still hurt, Dean wants to be with him, and that’s enough for him.

“Lying was so stupid, Cas,” Dean says between kisses. 

Castiel only kisses him harder in response, pouring as much of an apology into a kiss as he possibly can, and when it still doesn’t feel like enough, he breaks it to say the words again. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m so p—” Dean groans, a mix of distress and frustration that cuts him to the bone. “Just kiss me, okay? Keep kissin’ me, Cas. I—I need you.”

And so it’s with a sense of determination that he throws himself into it, dropping his hands onto Dean’s firm chest and exploring the hard planes of his torso with broad, indulgent sweeps. Dean makes a noise low in his throat that sounds a lot like the _ mine _ that he growled only a few seconds ago, and heat surges through him, sending _ yes, yes, yes _ coursing through his veins. 

He feels Dean’s tongue prod at the seam of his lips and opens for him enthusiastically, inhaling sharply at the first electric touch of their tongues dancing together. This is lightyears away from soft and sweet like it was on the couch last night. This is desperate and urgent and ten times as arousing, and he’s already gasping for breath when Dean’s lips start a trail of fire down the side of his face and along his jaw.

“Say it,” Dean prompts him. Another apology is on the tip of his tongue, but it’s forgotten when Dean’s plump lips hit half a dozen sensitive spots on their way down his neck. “Tell me you’re my soulmate.”

_ Oh. _“I’m yours,” Castiel promises. “Nobody—nobody will ever kiss me but you.” 

He assumes Dean approves because he hones in on that one spot on Castiel’s throat that has his vision going white after that, and the first scrape of Dean’s teeth causes him to call out with pleasure. _ “Ungh!_” Dean hums against his skin, latching on and applying suction again and again, drawing another surprised sound from his lips when he can think through the brain fog enough to comprehend that Dean is giving him a hickey. 

_ Dean wants to leave a mark on me. _

He doesn’t understand his reaction, but that thought has him going wild, and he pulls Dean’s mouth back to his, thrusting his tongue between Dean’s lips to delve deeply into the warmth of his mouth. Dean’s hands leave his hair to grip at his back, his fingernails biting into his skin through his shirt, and when Dean’s strong arms wrap around him to push him back onto the bed, his heart thunders in his chest but he allows himself to be lowered onto his back. 

Onto his bed.

He has no recollection of Dean’s lips leaving his, but he hears, “Everybody’s gonna fucking _ know. _Everybody’s gonna look at you and see that bruise, and they’re gonna know you’re mine now.”

_ You’re mine now. _

The words echo in his mind, burrow into his brain and send tiny shockwaves of pleasure to his system. He never thought hearing somebody say something like that would be so hot, but he can’t deny his reaction to it. And then Dean’s lips are back on his neck, and if he was already breathing heavily _ before, _ Dean lowering himself on top of him and straddling his thigh sure doesn’t make it any easier. He can feel the burning hot, hard line of Dean’s erection against his hip for the first time, causing heat to flash through his whole body in an instant. Just when he thinks he can’t possibly be any more turned on, he realizes he’s being blanketed by Dean’s weight, by Dean’s _ strength, _and he wouldn't be surprised if he went up in actual flames just from the thought, let alone survive the reality.

He makes a quiet sound of distress when he registers a burning sensation on his neck. Dean’s scruff has started rubbing against his skin, causing a rough scraping sensation he can’t quite tell if he likes or not. Thankfully, when he turns his head away, Dean abandons the area to kiss his way down to his collarbone. Dean yanks his shirt to the side, stretching out the collar to mark all along his newly bared skin, and like last night, Castiel finds himself squirming beneath Dean’s weight, mindlessly searching for something more substantial to rub against than the fly of his jeans.

The hand stretching his shirt skims down his side, landing on his hip where Dean palms him and groans roughly before he pushes his way up Castiel’s shirt. Castiel gasps, surprised by the bold move, but his body takes over from his mind and he arches into Dean’s touch. He throws his head back in ecstasy and his hands fly up to grip at Dean’s back. Dean must take that as the enthusiastic permission it is, because he dives onto Castiel’s newly exposed throat, feasting on his flesh, all while two hands run over his bare skin and push his t-shirt out of the way. 

With this new possibility fresh in his mind, he follows Dean’s lead and lowers his own hands to Dean’s tiny waist, slowly moving up his shirt onto his soft skin. Where Dean’s hands grope and grab, he explores carefully, wanting to learn the terrain of his lover’s body as well as the back of his hand. 

“You shoulda told me,” Dean says suddenly, pulling him out of the moment. “We coulda—we coulda been together the whole time.”

He abandons Dean’s upper body in favor of framing his face instead. Dean closes his eyes when he tries to make eye contact, but his breath stutters when Castiel caresses his cheeks. “I know. I’m sorry, Dean. I should have told you.” He pulls Dean’s face down to seal their lips together again, and he’s pleased when he gets the opportunity to slow it down a little bit. His chest fills with warmth, reminding him of how he felt in this very bed only a few hours ago when he realized he was falling in love with Dean, and it prompts him to kiss Dean more tenderly still, trying to show him how much he cares about him in the process.

Dean only allows it for a minute before he increases the pressure of his lips and does something absolutely sinful with a curl-flick of his tongue that has Castiel’s eyes rolling up into his head. Dean starts kissing him with more ferocity, and he dives into it, matching Dean kiss for kiss and grope for grope the best he possibly can. It feels completely different than last night but so, _ so _ good that he gets swept up in it until Dean breaks the seal of their lips with a wet pop. 

“Make me crazy. You know that?” Dean smashes their lips together again, hard, once, twice. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you. Wanting you.” Clinging, sucking. _ Nipping._ “All the damn time.” 

“Me too,” Castiel answers, breathless and torn somewhere between wanting more kisses and wanting to soothe Dean’s lingering anger. “I-I thought about you, too. Wanted you.”

“Show me,” Dean begs him. The coaxing tone to his voice is low but smooth and burning hot, making Castiel’s insides squirm with arousal. “I wanna feel you.”

He wants to give Dean whatever he’s asking for, but doesn’t know what that is. “I—I don’t know how.”

Dean slides over, making room for his hips between Castiel’s legs and then filling the space with his body flush to Castiel’s. A prominent bulge rubs against his and it's like a million tiny fireworks explode all at once behind his eyes and down his spine. His eyelids are fluttering and his nerve endings are alight with more pleasure than he’s ever felt, and he’s _ moaning _ low and uninhibited. 

“Oh _ fuck,”_ Dean groans. “You—you want me.”

“Y-yes,” Castiel answers, though the single word gets stuck in his throat because now that he’s felt Dean’s erection against his own, there’s a clawing need beneath his skin, telling him he needs something else. His hands return to Dean’s back, and like last night, he’s gripping at those firm muscles, trying to pull Dean in without even knowing what he’s trying to accomplish. He just wants him closer. He wants Dean against him because he needs something else, something more. 

“‘s stupid,” Dean pants. “I want you so fucking bad. We should—but I don’t want to stop.”

“Don’t,” Castiel begs him. “I don’t want to stop. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and I’m... I’m yours, Dean. I’m your soulmate.”

A low rumble starts in Dean’s throat before he crashes their lips back together, and to Castiel, it tastes like sweet relief, so he’s more than happy to lie here, making out with Dean and getting pressed into the mattress. Dean’s talented tongue is taking him apart one broad swipe at a time, and he’s mesmerized by the way Dean’s muscles in his back move so sinuously on top of him every time Dean changes the angle of his head. 

It’s instinct more than a predetermined move on his part when his hands start to urge Dean’s body into matching the back and forth rhythm of his thrusting tongue, wordlessly and unintentionally asking Dean to rock on top of him. Dean responds with a needy sound low in his throat, and the very first hint of friction against his throbbing cock is such a relief that he lifts his hips in an answering roll. The dry rasp of the denim between them is unfathomably good, and he makes a muffled-sounding, “Mmuuuh,” before he has to break for air. “D-Dean.”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Dean breathes into his ear, and the warm air on his skin sends a shiver down his spine. Dean thrusts against him again, more purposely this time, and although another garbled sound escapes him, Castiel can’t respond properly with _ that _ short-circuiting his system. “Nobody—nobody else is gonna know you like this, huh?”

It shouldn’t be so arousing to hear Dean talk like that, to know Dean’s thinking like that, but it still has him grinding up against Dean even harder. Dean keeps himself busy with sucking hot, sloppy spots onto the side of his face, his jaw, his neck, and his collarbone while his hands shove their way down his sides. Dean’s hands settle on the spurs of his hip bones, and then Dean’s urging him into a hurried, frantic rhythm of rubbing their groins together that has a constant stream of unintelligible noises spilling from his lips. 

He tries to stifle them on the bend of Dean’s neck, but Dean rasps, “Don’t you dare hold those in. I wanna hear you. Every one.”

_ “Dean,” _ Castiel moans, the commanding tone in Dean’s voice making him feel wanton and needy. Dean’s fingers dig hard into his flesh, and then Dean grinds down and rotates his hips in a filthy little circle. _ “Oh!” _ Castiel’s breathing is ragged, coming out in desperate, shallow pants. His cock is hard and aching and _ he wants. _He wants, he wants, he wants. “Please. I want you. I want you.”

_ “Fuck,” _ Dean whispers shallowly. “Yeah, you do. Yeah,” Dean repeats, circling his hips again and driving Castiel wild. “Doin’ so good, Cas. You feel unfucking believable, you know that?”

His nails scrape along Dean’s shoulder blades, trying to drag him closer still, and Castiel’s voice is barely more than a rasp when he finds the courage to ask for what he really wants. “T-touch me.”

“Oh jesus _ fuck.” _ Dean shoves his hand down Castiel’s pants in a heartbeat, his calloused fingers wrapping around his rock hard length and starting to stroke him vigorously without even freeing him from his jeans first. 

_ “Ah! _ Ahhh god, _ Dean.” _Castiel throws his head back and moans, rutting forward into Dean’s big hand, riding the tunnel of his fist with his teeth clenched. It’s so unbelievably good that he’s lost all coherent thought, all concept of decency and modesty, and he just thrusts wildly, mindlessly chasing his orgasm.

_ “Shit,” _ Dean gasps. “Shit, shit, shit.” And then the perfect pressure and all-encompassing pleasure of Dean’s hand on his dick disappears as quickly as it started and if he could breathe, he’d be whining, begging for it back. “Need to feel you. Need to feel you, Cas. Need you so fuckin’ bad, _ fuck.” _

There’s a hard edge to Dean’s words, like he’s angry about it, but the low rasp is sexy as hell and he’s still distracted by it when Dean reaches for his fly. Dean fumbles with the zipper, and once Castiel realizes what Dean’s trying to do, his fingers work on lowering his own, and then both pairs of jeans and boxers are discarded. He’s robbed of the opportunity for a look of his lover completely bare for the first time because Dean’s pressing what feels like a very large cock against his before he can peek, and _ holy shit, _ does it feel good. Dean’s leaking pre-cum, his skin so soft but his erection so incredibly hard that Castiel can’t even breathe through the pure bliss. 

“C-Cas. I need you.” 

Dean sounds almost vulnerable this time, and it tugs painfully on his heartstrings. “You have me,” Castiel promises, gripping onto his back like an anchor. “Always.”

Dean groans and takes Castiel’s lower lip between his, rolling his hips at the same time he sucks his bottom lip right into his mouth. Dean’s tongue laves along his tender flesh sinuously, and Castiel feels like he’s about to combust when his mind supplies him with other things Dean could do with that wicked tongue of his. His breath comes out ragged as their bare skin slides together, cocks lined up and pushing into his stomach, leaving wet smears along his skin he doesn’t know which one of them belongs to. He’s raking his nails down Dean’s back at this point, but this is pleasure unlike anything he’s ever known, and when Dean’s teeth close down on his lip it’s a warning that escapes him next.

“Dean. Dean, I think I’m—” What’s he supposed to say? Close to orgasm?

“You’re gonna come for me, Cas?” Dean growls. Castiel nods frantically, thankful they’re on the same page even now, and Dean pushes himself up on one elbow so he can snake his hand back down between their bodies. Dean wraps his hand around both of their cocks, stroking them together and giving Castiel an erotic glipse of two shiny, purpling cockheads thrusting in and out of the tunnel of Dean’s hand. “Need it,” Dean pants. “Need you to give it to me, Cas. Show me.”

Then Dean leans forward and smashes their lips together, all tongues and indescribable heat, teeth clacking together against not-quite-opened-enough mouths. Castiel digs his nails into his shoulders, his arms shaking. Everything is building so fast, so big. It’s so hot, he’s so _ hard. _Dean’s leaking against him, their cocks are grinding together incessantly and deliciously messy, and Dean’s tongue and teeth are assaulting his senses.

He can’t maintain their kiss when the heat begins to rise to an inferno inside of him, letting him know he’s only seconds away from what he already knows is going to be an explosive orgasm. Dean buries his face in Castiel’s neck, kissing his skin while Dean gives their cocks a wicked twist of his wrist. 

“Mine,” Dean snarls, before biting down on the meat of his shoulder. Pleasure/pain spikes inside of him and he whimpers, confused but into it and wanting more still. “You waited for me. Waited for this. Only wanted me.”

“Yes!” Castiel answers. He did, and he’s so glad because this is unbelievable. He’s so close, and it feels _ so good. _ “Dean, please.”

“Shit. Listen to you,” Dean says reverently, his fingers stroking and his wrist curling inwards. “And you thought—” Again and again, up, down, curl, _ oh. _ Up, down, curl, _ fuck. _ “—you thought I wanted _ music _ more than this. More than _ you? _ Fuck, Cas.”

He tries to thrust into Dean’s fist, intent on getting there faster, _ now,_ but Dean’s fingers tighten into an iron grip on his hip, holding him still. He grinds his teeth together, desperately trying to reach the edge faster, harder, _ now, now, now now now. _  
  
“I woulda done anything for this. For you. To be with you,” Dean whispers hoarsely. “Always wanted you so damn much.”

“I’m _ sorry,” _ he whines, balanced on a confusing edge of hurt and horny he isn’t equipped to deal with right now. “I was wrong. I was wrong, I was wrong. Please.”

“Gonna tell me you don’t want me now?”Dean asks.

“N-no,” Castiel stutters. “I can’t. I want you. I _ always _ wanted you. I’m yours, Dean.”

“Yeah. You are,” Dean agrees. And finally, the grip on his hips relaxes enough that Castiel can thrust into his hand.

It’s over embarrassingly fast after that. He drives his cock through the circle of Dean’s slickened fist twice, and one swipe of Dean’s rough thumb across his cockhead has heat ripping through him like hellfire. His muscles lock up, and he hides his face in the crook of Dean’s shoulder when he feels the first hot spurt of cum shoot between them. He calls out Dean’s name, low and broken, as Dean jerks him fast and rough through his orgasm, sliding his big hand up and over his cockhead and smearing his cum all down his shaft to ease his stroke until Castiel’s completely spent. 

He’s light-headed and gasping for air when Dean straddles his waist and takes his own cock into his hand. He leans over Castiel, bracing himself with his free hand as he strokes himself almost brutally fast, never breaking eye contact even as he visibly approaches his peak. 

Dean looks absolutely gorgeous like this, lips and cheeks pink, a faint sheen of sweat dampening his shirt where it’s still rucked halfway up his back. Though Castiel’s arms feel like lead, he lifts his hands to frame Dean’s face. He’s a little sad that Dean’s adorable freckles almost disappear beneath his blush, so he sweeps his thumb across his cheekbone, and ironically, that’s what has Dean’s jaw dropping open and his eyelashes fluttering as he adds thick, warm ropes of cum to the mess already on Castiel’s stomach.

Castiel pulls Dean’s mouth down to his, capturing those kiss-swollen lips of his in a sweet kiss that Dean melts into like butter. Dean makes muffled sounds against his mouth as he works himself through the aftershocks, and Castiel takes the opportunity to ply him with as much love and affection as Dean will allow. He pets through his hair and down his spine while he kisses him tenderly, and when Dean pulls away, breathing hard, he whispers, “You’re so beautiful, Dean. So perfect. Every part of you.” He kisses the top of his head, wrapping his arms around Dean and pulling him against him, nice and close to where his heart is still going a-mile-a-minute in his chest.

He waits for Dean to catch his breath, rubbing between his shoulder blades the same way Dean does to him until he thinks they’ve both come down from their orgasms. He feels loose and lazy, and he can’t wait to spend the whole day with Dean right here in his bed, talking out their problems, preferably with their lips and bodies locked together at every possible opportunity. He has a lot of time to make up for, after all.

“That was—” He huffs out a laugh, thinking about all of the fantasies he had about gentle, soft love-making over the years. “Nothing like I thought it’d be the first time I let my soulmate touch me, but it felt... good, doing that with you. I’m glad I waited.”

“I bet,” Dean says dryly.

Because that’s not the reply he expected, he asks, “Hm?”

“I said, ‘I bet,’” Dean repeats, pushing out of Castiel’s arms and rolling onto his back. 

Dean’s jaw is set, and something twists uncomfortably beneath his ribs when he sees it. “What does that mean?”

“It means I bet you’re glad, ‘cause you got exactly what you wanted. You—you lied to me every damn day for the last two weeks, then you batted your stupidly sad blue eyes at me and I was hanging off your dick in two seconds flat.” Castiel flinches, his insides freezing over in an instant. “Congratulations. I’m glad it was everything you were hoping for.”

“What _ I _ wanted?” he repeats hoarsely. “You—you’re the one who kissed _ me, _ who asked me to keep kissing you, who pushed me onto the bed.”

“Well it was always gonna be me, right?” Dean asks, confusing him now. “I’m your soulmate, you waited for me, and so it wasn’t like it was gonna go down any other way.” The bitter tone of Dean’s voice combined with Dean implying he had no choice _ but _ to be with him after the first time he’s ever shared his body with somebody has Castiel feeling genuinely sick to his stomach and unable to form a reply. “These last two weeks, I thought I was better than the whole soulmate thing. That I knew what I wanted better than this stupid destined to be together shit, but all along, I was only so damn sure you were it because you had to be. I never had a choice, I had to be your first.”

“You could’ve said no,” Castiel whispers, trying to blink through the moisture filling his eyes. “You could’ve _ stopped _ if you weren’t sure.”

“Yeah,” Dean snorts. “‘cause you know all about how easy it is to say no to your soulmate, right Cas? That’s why you straddled me when you were high, kissed me when I played for you, turned into an over-eager moaning mess on the couch last night, and just _ begged _ me—”

“Get out.”

The words slash through his heart the moment he says them, but he means them absolutely. There’s a quiet rage rolling through him now, because yes, Dean can be mad at him for lying—he has every right to be mad—but he doesn’t get to talk to him like this. Soulmate or not, Castiel is not going to sit here and let Dean belittle what he feels for him or what just happened between them. 

“Get out of my apartment,” he says again, louder this time. 

Dean looks genuinely shocked. “Cas—”

“No.” Whatever Dean has to say, he’s not interested in hearing it right now. He sits up, throwing the discarded blanket over himself to shield his body the way he wishes he could shield his heart. “I just—I just shared something with you that I’ve been holding onto for a very long time, and I did it because—because I wanted to, yeah,” he admits. “But I only wanted to because I thought it meant something to you, too. I thought you were touching me because you cared about me, because you wanted to be with me. But it was just about the sex, wasn’t it?” he asks brokenly, hardly able to believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.

After how gentle and loving Dean was with him last night and in bed earlier this morning when they gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes for so long, how did they devolve to this so quickly?

“And to hear you talk to me like that afterwards? _ You? _ Of all people?” He hates the way his eyes are burning with tears, but he’s heartbroken. Crushed. “I thought you were different,” he admits, and the words help strengthen his resolve. “You should leave until you’ve calmed down. We should’ve talked—I never should’ve asked you—” He has to stop to swallow down the pain and regret clawing at his chest. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this for us,” he whispers.

Dean rolls out of his bed without a word. While Dean finds his clothes and redresses, Castiel keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling, concentrating hard on keeping his mind blank and taking long, calming breaths. In for five seconds through his nose, out for five seconds through his mouth. In, out. In, out. He can hear that Dean’s finished dressing, and when he sees Dean stride halfway to the door in his peripheral vision, his breathing stutters.

He closes his eyes, concentrating even harder, not letting himself give into the torturous thoughts of how Dean’s really going to leave him like this—half-naked, covered in semen, feeling used and unloved—without even an apology. He listens closely for the click of the front door, knowing as soon as he hears it close that he’ll be able to give up on this final shred of control he’s holding onto and let out all the pain that’s building inside of him and really cry, but that’s not what happens.

“I’m—” The single, rough word gets cut off by a sob, and he turns towards the sound, finding Dean crouched next to his bed with tears streaming down his face. “I’m so fucking sorry, Cas. I’m—I’m torn into so many pieces I don’t even know what’s up or down, and I—I’m _ pissed _ but I swear I never meant to hurt you.” Dean takes a deep, gasping breath and says, “It meant something to me, okay? Don’t you—don’t you think it didn’t, not for a single second.” Castiel nods, because there’s no reason for Dean to lie to him now. Not when he’s obviously leaving. “You’re my soulmate and you’ll always mean something to me—_everything _ to me—but I—I think you’re right.” Dean wipes at his own face, smearing his tears and swiping under his nose. “I should go before I say or do somethin’ else I can’t take back.”

If he thought he knew what heartbreak was, he was wrong, because he never could have imagined this kind of pain. 

“Are you—” He’s so afraid of what the answer might be, he can hardly force the words out. But he has to know. “Are you... coming back?”

His breath shudders out of him when Dean brushes his fingers down the side of his face, making his heart flip and his stomach heave when he realizes this gentle touch is the only time he’s been touched with care since Dean found out they were soulmates. 

“I don’t know,” Dean whispers, and his heart crumbles to dust. “I’m so—I’m so fucking sorry. But I gotta go. I—” Dean’s lips tremble, but he presses them together to stop whatever he was going to say. Then his lips turn up into a small, fond smile, but his eyes still look haunted and sad. “Bye, Cas.”

Dean caresses his face one more time, and then he stands and walks out of the room, and this time, Castiel’s crying his heart out long before he hears the sound of the door closing.

Dean didn’t call him sweetheart even once. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** While still angry, Cas and Dean engage in sexual activity. Afterwards, Dean lashes out and Castiel wishes it didn’t happen how it did.


	10. Chapter 10

It’s been complete radio silence for six hours.

Dean has no fucking clue why he keeps checking his damn phone, ‘cause it’s not like Cas is gonna want anything to do with him after the way he treated him.

Only Dean Winchester could fuck up so badly  _ after _ being lied to for two weeks straight that  _ he’s _ the one who feels like the bad guy here. And jesus fucking christ, does he. He was still so fucking mad about Cas not telling him they were soulmates, and then Cas mentioned the possibility of being with somebody else and all the rage he’d been trying so hard to keep bottled inside of him  _ exploded _ out.

The thought of Cas letting somebody else touch him when Cas is  _ his soulmate _ made him lose his fucking mind, and he pounced on Cas without thinking. He didn’t think about why Cas might be so into it when he shoved his hands down his pants without even asking if Cas was sure, and after, when he lashed out and made Cas feel like they shouldn’t have been together at all... well.

That’s why most of the anger he feels now is directed towards himself.

He should’ve known. He should have known Cas wouldn’t be down for angry sex for his first time. What the hell was he  _ thinking?  _ And now he can’t get that look on Cas’s face outta his head. The way Cas had sounded so fucking broken when he said,  _ “You?  _ Of all people?” had hit him like a shot through the heart, and he had to get the hell out of there before he lost it again. Cas didn’t need to hear him spit anymore venom, even if it was going to be directed at himself this time. Cas didn’t need to listen to what a fuck up his soulmate is, that Dean lost his goddamn mind and acted in a way that he’s so ashamed of he’s wound up curled over the toilet bowl more than once this afternoon. He’s disgusted with himself.

For ten minutes, he forgot that Cas had never been touched before.

No, he thinks, shaking his head. That’s not even it, because he’d been getting off on that the whole time. He’d been thinking how hot it was, knowing that nobody else had ever touched Cas like this, that nobody else knew what the weight of him felt like in their hand, how nobody else will ever know how incredibly gorgeous Cas is when he comes.

So it’s not that he wasn’t aware... which means... what? That he was so mad that he didn’t care? That he was so desperate to feel good again, he just took what he wanted in the moment without sparing a single thought for what Cas felt? What the hell kind of man does that make him?

He should’ve been more gentle.

He should’ve asked Cas if he was sure. 

He should’ve worshiped Cas’s body the first time he touched him so he could show Cas what it felt like to be with somebody who cares so much about him, not what angry sex feels like.

And it’s  _ killing him _ that he can’t take it back, that nothing he can ever say or do will be able to take it back. How can they possibly come back from this? From what he did to the one person who he’s supposed to be with?

The truth is, he knew he still wanted to be with him before he even kissed Cas. As soon as he realized the idea of somebody else touching Cas filled him with rage, it clicked inside of him that he would only react like that if he still wanted to be with him. He knew it was gonna take time to forgive Cas completely, but he was sure when he first kissed Cas that he wanted to be with him, and he  _ still _ let his anger overpower everything else. From the first time they kissed all the way to the moment he came all over Cas, the only time they touched with any kind of tenderness between them was when Cas initiated it. Even then, Cas’s gentle touch had torn his heart so wide open that the hurt started to sink back in, and so he masked it with passion. Every time. He changed things up  _ every time _ so that he wasn’t feeling emotions anymore, only arousal, need, and desperation.

And as soon as that left him, and he was sated and comfortable, the only thing left was his broken heart, his bruised pride, and more anger than he knew what to do with. So he did what he always does when he’s pissed. He lashed out. He said unforgivable things he didn’t even  _ believe _ that caused Cas to kick him out, and he’d left without a fight because Cas was right. He needed to calm the hell down before he tried to talk to Cas again and made things even worse. Considering he’s  _ still _ mad about Cassie leaving him so many years ago, he had answered Cas truthfully when Cas asked if he was coming back.

He didn’t know.

Can he trust himself to see Cas again and be gentle and loving the way Cas deserves when he’s still so mad? If not, how does he stop being mad? He doesn’t know. That’s why he answered that way initially, but he was questioning his decision before he even made it to the front door. He heard Cas crying, heard the heart-wrenching sobs coming from the bedroom and instinctively knew that they weren’t because Dean had lost his temper, but because Cas still didn’t want him to go.

And how was he supposed to walk away from that?

But he did, and he’s been going over and over everything that’s happened since he got home, but he’s no closer to coming up with a resolution. What’s he supposed to do? How can he make it better when he can’t take away the harsh words he spit at Cas? How can he fix things between them when he’ll never be able to go back and give Cas a good first sexual experience? How can he possibly start to feel better when the one person he wants to comfort him is the one who’s responsible for starting everything that went wrong in the first place?

He wants to be with Cas, but he hasn’t forgiven Cas for what he did to him, either. He hasn’t forgiven him for keeping that they’re soulmates from him for two weeks. He hasn’t forgiven Cas for keeping them apart for no good reason, and he hasn’t forgiven him for the unnecessary pain he was in when Cas made him think he didn’t have a chance with him.

That’s another reason why he hasn’t done anything. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s thought about texting Sam a couple times, but he’s both too embarrassed to tell him Cas has been lying to him all this time and ashamed of his own behavior to tell him the whole story. So with nothing to fill his time but thinking, pouting, raging, and hurting, it’s not surprising that he’s ready for bed early that night, even if it is a Saturday.

He feels sick to his stomach yet again when he climbs into his bed, thinking about how he went to bed last night so optimistic about his future with Cas, and now he doesn’t even know if he has one. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since he left Cas’s place, and he already misses him so freaking bad his heart aches. Thinking that Cas might feel even half as bad as he’s felt all day makes it hurt so much more, and so even though he sincerely doubts his wish will come true, he hopes Cas is dealing with everything a hell of a lot better than he is.

He rolls onto his stomach, and to his surprise, he’s out in minutes.

He doesn’t hear anything from Cas Sunday or Monday, and not a word all day on Tuesday, either. He thinks about reaching out to Cas dozens of times every day, but each time he wonders why the hell Cas would want anything to do with him after the way he treated him, and so he doesn’t say anything. They may be soulmates, but that doesn’t mean Cas can’t find somebody better than him. Somebody who will treat Cas the way he deserves to be treated. Because he can’t trust himself to be that person anymore, he stews in his misery. Every day feels twice as hard as the day before, and unlike Saturday night, he hasn’t been able to fall asleep  _ or _ stay asleep since.

He knows it makes him a goddamn coward, but he wants to do something to try to make things better and to let Cas know how fucking sorry he is, but he only wants to do it without risking hurting Cas  _ or himself  _ even more. 

It’s Tuesday night when he’s in bed with the radio on, trying desperately to make his brain stop going a mile a minute so that he can fall asleep, when a song comes on that hits so close to home it’s hard to believe it isn’t a sign. It’s not a song he’s overly familiar with, but before he can change his mind, he closes his eyes and starts singing. 

_ “Although it hurts, _ _   
_ _ I’ll be the first to say that I was wrong. _ _   
_ _ Oh, I know I’m probably much too late,  
_ _ to try to apologize for my mistakes,  
_ _ but I just want you to know... _ _   
_ _   
I should have bought you flowers,  
_ _ and held your hand.  
_ _ I should have gave you all my hours,  
_ _ when I had the chance.  
_ _ Take you to every party,   
_ _ ‘cause all you wanted to do was dance. _

_ Those are the things I should’ve done,  
_ _ when I was your man.” _

He’s not even totally sure that he sang the right words there at the end, but the important thing is that he did it. He sang Cas part of a love song by Bruno freaking Mars about how he should’ve done things differently. 

Dean lies there with his heart going a mile a minute, hoping that Cas heard him, that he didn’t make things worse, and that Cas is willing to forgive him for the way he treated him even though he isn’t sure he deserves it. 

He hears the sound of a text message come in and almost dives on his phone in his excitement. 

**CAS: **I really hope I was supposed to hear that  
**DEAN: **You were. I’m so, so sorry Cas.  
**CAS: **I’m sorry, too   
**DEAN:** I was wrong before. I don’t want this to be over between us.   
**CAS:** Oh, thank god. I don’t want it to be over either!  
**DEAN:** I know I said horrible, unforgivable things. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved and I’m never ever gonna be able to take it back. I’m so, SO sorry. I literally can’t say how fucking sorry I am.   
**CAS: **I did horrible, unforgivable things, too, Dean. And I certainly didn’t treat you the way you deserved by lying to you for so long.

Now that Cas has mentioned it, he feels anger flood back inside of him in an instant. He has to put his phone down and breathe through it until he can trust himself to respond again. 

**DEAN:** Yeah, I guess you didn’t, but that still doesn’t make what I did okay.  
**DEAN:** I really wanna forgive you for lying and try to move on or whatever so we can be together, but... I don’t think I’m there yet. I’m still a weird mix of pissed off and really sorry 😬  
**CAS: ** It’s okay, I’m actually feeling the same kind of thing. But I think the important thing to focus on right now is that I know I’ll be able to forgive you some day. Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?  
**DEAN:** I mean, I’ve got to, right? Because I wanna be with you.   
**CAS:** I’m not sure I deserve it, but that’s really good to hear. Thank you.  
**DEAN: ** So what do we do now?  
**CAS:** I don’t really know. I’m here when you need to talk, for starters. Any questions you might have, anytime you need to tell me again how stupid lying was, how naive I’ve been. I’ll listen. I’ll apologize again, and I’ll tell you I still care about you as often as you need to hear it.  
**DEAN:** You know I still care about you too, right?  
**CAS: ** I do now 😊  
**DEAN:** Good, because I really do. A lot. And same for me about the talking and stuff. I know I fucked up too and hurt you real bad, so if you want to ask anything or tear me a new one, I know I deserve it.  
**CAS:** I appreciate that, but it isn’t necessary   
**DEAN:** idk why I thought I could say goodbye to you for a single second. I miss you so damn much.   
**CAS: ** I miss you, too, Dean. So much. But as hard as it’s been, I still think some time apart is the best way to start to move past this. We’ve already proved we don’t do our best thinking when we’re emotional and in the same room together.   
**DEAN:** That’s for damn sure. Listen...  
**DEAN:** It’s been eating me up all week. You need to know I didn’t mean what I said about not having a choice. Truth is, my choice would’ve been you, soulmate or not, and I knew that even when I said the opposite. The universe finally got something right when it picked you for me. I’m so fucking sorry I said that. If I could take it back, I would.  
**CAS:** Believe it or not, I wasn’t too upset about that part. If you want to talk about the things you said, what really hurt was when you insinuated I looked sad on purpose to make you kiss me, and then when you threw the way I react to you touching me back in my face.   
**CAS: ** It’s already intimidating being with somebody who has more experience than me, and then my soulmate winds up looking like YOU, and so of course I react strongly. You’re physically perfect in every way! But now I feel embarrassed about it, like I was supposed to like it less or something?

Just when he thought his heart couldn’t break any more. 

**DEAN:** Cas, seriously, please don’t be embarrassed. The way you react to me drives me crazy because it’s the hottest thing in the whole fucking world. I swear. I only said that because I was mad at myself for how it only takes one look from you to get me to do anything you want me to.  
**CAS:** I don’t look at you any particular way to try to get you to do anything 😕  
**DEAN:** I know you don’t. It’s just something about you, man. You pull me in.   
**DEAN:** Maybe that part is the soulmate thing, I don’t know. But you gotta believe I didn’t mean what I said.   
**CAS:** I believe you, but it’s still going to take some time to erase those words from my mind. Thank you for telling me you didn’t mean it. It does help.  
**DEAN:** Good. Any chance you got anything that’ll help me?  
**CAS:** I don’t know if it will help, but I really enjoyed sharing a bed with you those two times. Even though I still think we need to keep our distance, I wish you were here and I could sleep with you again tonight. I always feel so right in your arms. Like everything will be okay.   
  
Weirdly enough, that does help, because even though he’s mad, he wants to be that person for Cas. He wants to be the one Cas can go to for absolutely anything and know that he has his back, and he knows he’s done a shitty job of that so far.  
  
**DEAN: **Wish I could be there to make you feel like that right now.   
**CAS:** It would certainly be an improvement.   
**DEAN:** You can always close your eyes, pretend that you’re not mad at me anymore, and that I’m there holding you. Pretend you’re all cuddled into that little space between my neck and shoulder that you fit into perfectly.   
**DEAN:** ha. Guess there’s a reason for that, huh?  
**CAS: **We are soulmates 😊  
**DEAN:** Under the anger and all that shit that’s still there, I hope you know I’m so damn glad it’s you, Cas.  
**CAS:** I didn’t know that, but it feels really, really good to hear it. I’ve always felt the same way about you, but I’m still sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.   
**DEAN:** You were gonna tell me at Sam’s on Friday, right? And I stopped you.   
**CAS: **Still. That’s only one of the many times I should have said something. The only reason I was going to then was because I felt so guilty for kissing you after swearing I wouldn’t while I was lying to you.   
**DEAN:** What difference does it make?  
**CAS:** I thought lying to you while getting physically involved would be a bigger lie. An unforgivable one. I also didn’t want my first kiss or first time being hands-on with somebody to happen while I was lying to them.   
**DEAN:** Well, one out of two isn’t bad 😬  
**CAS:** Yeah, you know what they say about good intentions.  
  
He takes a deep breath and types out the next apology he needs to make. The one that makes his stomach twist and his throat work double-time to keep the bile down.   
  
**DEAN:** I’m sorry I wasn’t more gentle with you. In bed. That’s not how it should’ve been between us or for your first time ever, period, and I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve felt sick about it since it happened.   
**CAS:** I knew you were going to beat yourself up over that. It’s important to me that you understand I really had no problem with it at the time.  
**DEAN:** Come on. That can’t be what you were hoping for all this time you waited.  
**CAS:** Not what I expected, no. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it while it was happening. I did. It was exhilarating, and it was with you. That’s really all that mattered to me while it was happening.  
**DEAN:** I should’ve asked you if you were sure.   
**CAS:** You know me, Dean. I would have said something if I wasn’t sure, and I know you would have slowed down if I had. I knew you were mad and that things weren’t going to be magically okay between us afterwards, I just wasn’t thinking about that at the time because it felt so good. I thought you kissing me meant you wanted to be with me.  
**DEAN:** I did want to be with you. I should have told you so you didn’t second guess it after, but I knew when I was kissing you that I wanted to try to figure out a way to work through everything. I was just too stuck in my own head being pissed off to tell you.  
**DEAN:** I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t make your first time special like I said I would.  
**CAS:** Dean, stop. That was only one first of many firsts. I promise you, I was okay with what happened between us in bed.  
**CAS:** Although I guess it’s fair to say I wish it had ended differently   
**DEAN:** No fucking wonder. I was the worst version of myself and lashed out and said fucking terrible things I didn’t even mean. I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, Cas. You deserved so much better from me and I am so so sorry.   
**CAS:** You’re already starting to make it up to me by acknowledging what you did and how it made me feel. I actually feel much better now that we’ve spoken and I know you did want to be with me all along. I wish I would have reached out sooner so we could have talked about this earlier.  
**DEAN:** Me too. It’s a lot easier knowing I didn’t fuck this up permanently.  
**CAS:** Same.  
**CAS:** If you’re feeling okay, I think I’m going to try to go to sleep now. I’m exhausted. Can we talk again tomorrow?  
**DEAN: **Anytime you want  
**CAS:** Alright. I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.   
**DEAN:** Sounds good. Night Cas  
**CAS:** Goodnight Dean

And apparently that’s all it takes to settle his mind for tonight, because the next thing he knows, he’s fast asleep. 

Even though he goes to work as usual the next morning, he spends the day thinking about Cas. After talking last night, he’s less worried about Cas not forgiving him, and more concerned about how he’s going to make up for what he did to Cas while simultaneously trying to move past knowing that Cas lied to him every day since they met.

He meant what he said when they talked last night. He does still want to be with Cas, he just doesn't know how to stop being angry with him so they can get there.

The day drags by the same way it has the rest of the week, but he’s barely been home ten minutes when there’s an unexpected knock on his door. It’s ridiculous that his heart skips a beat, somehow hoping it’s Cas and hoping it isn’t Cas at the same time. He pulls the door open to find his brother standing there, and he knows just based on the way Sam’s eyes squint and he studies his appearance that his face must have done something to give away that Sam’s not the person he was hoping to see.

“Expecting somebody else?” Sam asks.

Dean steps out of the way so Sam can come in, and lies through his teeth. “Nope.”

“Right,” Sam replies, letting him know with a single word that he doesn’t believe him. “Thought I’d come see what had you so busy all week that you haven’t been answering my texts.”

“Not a thing,” Dean says, plopping onto the couch and stretching his feet out to rest on the coffee table in front of him. “Just didn’t feel like talking.”

“Mmhmm.” Sam puts a foot of his own up on the table, and Dean knows he’s onto him when he speaks again. “What’s Cas up to tonight?”

“I dunno. Usual stuff, I guess.”

“Not hanging out tonight?” 

“Nope.”

“Well, Jess was talking about having you guys over for burgers one day this weekend. What day works for you?”

_ Dammit.  _ “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ll, uhm, have to check with Cas and get back to you.”

Sam reaches his hand into his pocket. “That’s okay, I’ll text him and ask.”

“Sammy,” Dean says, his voice brimming with impatience. “I said I’ll do it.”

“And I think you’re full of crap,” Sam says back. “Are you guys fighting?”

“No,” Dean lies. “Why would we be fighting?”

“Because he obviously had something important to tell us all Friday night that he didn’t get around to, which is why he wanted to leave right after you played your song. You haven’t answered any of my texts since then, which tells me it was something bad.”

“Wasn’t... bad,” he decides. 

“Dean, just spill, okay? We all like Cas, and I know how much you like him, so I’m sure whatever it is, we can all work it out and everything will be fine in the end, right?”

Dean considers that, knowing that keeping it to himself the few days hasn’t seemed to help, and that without outside help he’s unlikely to figure out how to fix this on his own. But he also knows that Sam is overprotective and can hold a serious grudge.

“I’ll tell you, but only if you promise you won’t hold it against him later.”

Sam frowns. “I can’t promise that without knowing what it is.”

“Then I guess I can’t tell you.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, both of them too stubborn to give in right away. Finally, it’s Sam who gives. “Fine. I’ll—I’ll try to let it go as easily as you do.”

“It ain’t easy,” Dean tells him. He sighs deeply, then lets the words come out. “Cas is my soulmate.”

“What?” Sam asks, clearly not expecting that. “How is that possible? He would’ve known as soon as he heard you sing at open mic night.”

“He did.” And damn, just saying that hurts so much it’s like he’s reliving when he found out all over again. “He knew and he didn’t tell me.”

_ “What?” _ Sam asks, much higher pitched this time. “Why not?”

“He heard us talking at the bar.”

“At the bar?” Sam repeats, and Dean watches him as he thinks back and figures it out. “I saw him standing there. You said the only person who could think your music was any good was your soulmate, and he’d only think that because he had to.” Sam huffs out a breath. “And that’s after I told Castiel at the bookstore how much selling your music meant to you and how hard it’s been to get you to put yourself out there.” 

“He said he wanted to help me build my confidence so I could get my music heard before he told me,” Dean explains. “He thought if he told me, I’d go back to thinking he had to like it and that I wasn’t good enough.”

“You probably would have,” Sam comments. He seems to think about it for a minute, then he cricks his neck to the side and folds his mouth into a shrug. “I guess I get where he was coming from.”

Wait, what?

“You do?”   
  
“Well, yeah,” Sam replies. “I mean, it’s not okay that he lied to you, but if I thought I had a chance at making Jess’s dreams come true and that hinged on me not telling her right away?” Sam shrugs. “We would’ve gotten together eventually. She would’ve killed me first, but it might’ve been worth it if she got the one thing she’s always wanted. At least she would’ve been happy.”

“I would’ve taken my soulmate over selling a damn song ten outta ten times,” Dean says fiercely.

Sam lifts his eyebrows in disbelief. “Really? ‘Cause I’ve heard you talk about how bad you wanted to get your music out there a hell of a lot more than how much you wanted to have a soulmate.”

“Because I didn’t think I had one!” 

He’s pissed off all over again now that he’s having to defend himself the same way he had to with Cas. Sam was supposed to be on his side and be pissed at Cas, not be  _ understanding _ of why Cas lied to him! 

“Well now you know you do,” Sam says simply. “And you have to give Cas some credit. He wanted to be with you so bad he was able to come up with a solution for getting your music out there in what, three weeks?”

“Two,” Dean corrects begrudgingly.

“Two weeks!” Sam exclaims. “It’s a hell of a lot more than any of us were able to do to help you, and we’ve had  _ years. _ I still can’t believe I never thought of a video.”

“But he lied,” Dean points out. “He looked me in the face a hundred times in the last two weeks and never said a thing.”

“Yeah, he did,” Sam agrees. “But it seems like he also did everything in his power to make you happy. Even that first night at the bar, the way he just stuck by your side all night long and made you smile and laugh and dance instead of moping around and punching the wall? And you said he cooked a nice meal for you, and kept encouraging you to play, and he got you to talk about your feelings out loud like an actual adult.  _ And _ he’s the one who came up with the video idea! Hell, he was so nervous  _ for you _ when you were getting ready to start playing Friday night that  _ his _ hands were shaking.”

“So what?” Dean asks, feeling his temper spike even more. “This is all my fault because I’m overreacting to being lied to?”

“Of course it’s not your fault,” Sam says earnestly. “It’s really shitty that he kept that from you, and you have every right to be mad at him if that’s how you feel.” Dean nods, relaxing again now that his feelings have been validated. “I’m just saying... I think it’s important to remember that I’ve known Castiel longer than you have, and I know without a doubt that he’s not a bad guy. He’s been waiting for you his whole life. Yeah, he did something really stupid, but it’s not like he’s the only one who’s ever freaked out when they met their soulmate. It’s a lot to handle all at once, looking into the face of the person you’re meant to be with without knowing a thing about them.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, because until now, he hasn’t stopped long enough to think about how Cas must’ve felt when he realized they were meant to be together. Was he happy? Scared? Nervous? Knowing Cas, he must’ve been nervous, but Cas came to find him anyway, even after Dean made a total ass of himself on stage.

“What do you think would have happened if he did tell you that night at The Roadhouse?” Sam asks.

“Huh?”

“Seriously. If Cas came up to you after you bailed on your performance that night, tapped you on the shoulder, and said, ‘I’m your soulmate,’ how would you have reacted?”

_ Not well.  _

The admission settles in his stomach like lead.

He was too pissed at himself, and he was skeptical enough about even having a soulmate at that point that he might not have believed Cas at all. He might have brushed him off entirely and made him feel like an asshole. But maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would’ve believed him. Maybe he would have looked Cas right in those blue eyes of his and thought,  _ Yeah. That makes sense. I thought it was you the first time I saw you, _ and they could’ve been happy. They could’ve gotten drunk and danced while they got to know each other, and maybe he would’ve given Cas his first kiss then, and they could’ve started their lives together happily with no lies between them.

But he never had the opportunity to find out. 

“Guess we’ll never know, ‘cause I never got a chance to react at all.”

Sam looks crestfallen for a second or two, but then offers a tentative smile. “Hey, at least he told you eventually, right?”

Dean laughs bitterly. “Yeah, not quite. I heard him humming in the shower. It was a song of mine that I’ve never played for anybody before, so it didn’t take long to put two and two together.”

“Oh,” Sam grimaces. “I can see how that wouldn’t have gone over very well.’

“You’re telling me.”

“So what happened?” Sam questions. “You throw a mantrum and bail?”   


“A  _ mantrum?” _ Dean repeats, snorting out a laugh. “No. Not exactly.”

“Well?”

Dean runs his hand down his face and tries to explain without going into too much detail. “He said something about not wanting to be with anybody else even if I never forgave him, and the thought of somebody else touching  _ my soulmate _ made me lose my fucking mind. I kissed him, and things kinda... got outta hand,” he admits, a blush warming his cheeks. “And afterwards... when I should have been making sure he felt comfortable about everything, I was a massive jerk. Big bag of dicks. Said some fucking horrible things that made Cas kick me out of his apartment.”

“Wow.” Sam runs his hand down his face like he's genuinely baffled by everything Dean's just said, and Dean nods while sighing his agreement. “You two couldn’t have screwed that up more if you were trying to.”

“Thanks a lot,” Dean says sarcastically.

They sit in silence for a few minutes while Dean broods over that, but it’s Sam who breaks it again. “What are you gonna do?”

“No idea.”

“You still want to be with him, right?”

Dean nods. “Yeah.”

“Does he know that?”

“Yeah,” Dean answers, more quietly now.

“You’ll work it out,” Sam says flippantly.

Dean turns and gapes at him. “That’s it? That’s all I get from the king of unsolicited advice?”

“What do you want me to say?” Sam asks. “You’re soulmates, so you’ll work it out. You were literally made for one another.” Then he snorts a laugh. “Though I gotta say, the universe has some sick kinda sense of humor putting two dumbasses like you two together.”

“Oh fuck you,” Dean says lightly, though honestly, the thought makes him kinda warm inside. Yeah, he and Cas might be a couple of dumbasses, but at least they know they have each other. 

“I know you’re probably still mad because I know you can hold onto a grudge like it’s your full-time job,” Sam says. Like he’s one to talk? “But I don’t think sitting here and ignoring everybody is going to make you feel any better. Just go see him. Suck it up and tell him you’re sorry for being a dick, and let him tell you he’s sorry face-to-face so you can see that he means it.”

“I... did,” Dean tells him. “He—he bawled like a baby. He apologized at least a dozen times.”

“Do you believe him? That he’s sorry?” Dean nods, because it’s impossible to see somebody cry like Cas did and think they have no remorse. “Do you believe he was only trying to do what would make you happy?” Though it costs him more this time, Dean nods again. “Then the only thing keeping you from the person you’ve been not-so-secretly pining for your whole life is yourself.”

“It’s not like I wanna stay mad,” Dean tells him. “But it’s not that easy. I don’t know how to get over it.”

“Nobody said it would be easy.” Sam aims a knowing smile at him. “But don’t you think looking into those big blue eyes would help?”

Dean lets out a quiet chuckle, because ain’t that the truth? 

“Man, I thought you’d be such a dick about this,” Dean admits.

Sam laughs gently. “I would’ve been if it was just anybody else. But I know Castiel, and so does Jess, and I can see how you’d fit. Plus, he’s your  _ soulmate, _ Dean,” Sam says, sounding excited on his behalf. “You think you know how good it’ll be once you’re all settled in together, but I swear it’s so, so much better than you can even imagine.” Dean has to look away, because his brother’s selling his story well enough that it’s making him second-guess his own anger. “Bottom line is, I want you to be happy again. You fake it the best you can, but I know you’re not  _ really  _ happy, and you haven’t been in a long time. Not with your music the way it is, plus I know you hate this stupid basement apartment almost as much as I hate you living in it.” 

Dean doesn’t fully manage to hold in a huff of laughter. He really does hate this fucking place.

“You don’t like your job, and you haven’t put yourself out there enough to be really happy with anybody since Cassie left. Castiel started to bring that out in you again, and now that I know you’re both not going to wind up hurt because of other people waiting in the wings, I just... I really want that for you, man. And, uh.” Sam stops and seems to debate whether or not to say anything, but ultimately continues. “I saw Castiel at work today. He looked like shit ran over twice, and Jess said he looked just as bad yesterday. It’s what made me come over here to check on you. I think you should talk to him.”

Knowing that Cas isn’t doing well makes his heart hurt, but he’s still so unsure. “I don’t know if I can make him feel any better.”

“If you want some real advice, I say make plans to see each other, but start small,” Sam suggests. “Just because you’re soulmates doesn’t mean you have to move in together or jump into bed right away. Take your time until it feels right. He’s not going anywhere, Dean.”

Sam leaves not long after he says his piece, and whether he meant it to or not, his words have a real impact on the direction of Dean’s thoughts for the rest of the night. He still doesn’t know how to stop being mad every time he thinks about Cas lying to him, but he finds himself thinking about other things like what life with Cas might be like. Falling asleep with Cas in his arms every night, waking up next to him every morning, having somebody to come home to at the end of the day, playing the guitar and writing music while Cas watches him with that little smile he gets on his face every time he plays. 

Even the boring everyday stuff, like grocery shopping, cooking, folding laundry, watching movies they’ve both already seen over and over just because they’re comforting. Playing all of his favorite songs for Cas, kissing every square inch of his skin while Zeppelin plays in the background, staying up late out on the balcony and watching the stars come out. Driving around town in Baby with Cas in the passenger seat, maybe someday going house shopping for that place out in the country that Cas wants, helping Cas buy a car and tuning it up for him to make sure it keeps him safe on the drive to and from town. Being by his side when Cas becomes the official owner of One Page at A Time. 

His heart gets fuller and fuller with every thought, and yes, there is still anger buried beneath it, but is it worth it to cling to it when he could be happy instead? Because Sammy was right about that, too. He hasn’t been the kind of happy he was waking up with Cas Saturday morning in so long he forgot he could feel that much. 

And he wants it back. He wants to feel it again. He wants Cas back on his shoulder where he belongs, and he  _ wants _ them to forgive each other and move on. 

Before he does something impulsive like show up at Cas’s place on a Wednesday night, he gets up to make himself some dinner. It’s still hot as balls outside and his air conditioner barely keeps the room comfortable when he’s sitting still, so he makes a couple of sandwiches with a handful of potato chips on the side and calls it a meal. Then he does something he hasn’t done in five days, and pulls out his guitar.

He knows Cas will be listening this time, and it’s only intimidating because he doesn’t know what he wants to say. He knows it’s “Lock and Key” that was making his fingers itch for his guitar, and now that he has confirmation that the soulmate song he’s been working on for so long is actually about Cas, it’s a lot easier to sing about what he’s waiting for. Some of it he’s already had, some of it he still needs to learn, and some of it he has to ask for.

He starts with what he knows, and works those lyrics into what he’s already written.  
  
_I rolled over, missing the shape of you again.  
__My arms were empty, just like my bed.  
__Blank space on my shoulder waiting for your head,  
__Cold sheets that don’t smell like you,  
__Not beer, not books, no scent to fall back to sleep to.  
  
_The words flow easily after that, and he knocks out another pre-chorus in no time at all, trying not to think about Cas hearing him change a word here or there over and over until he’s got it down pat. 

_ Breath hot on my skin.  
_ _ Love and tenderness in every touch.  
_ _ Bed head on my pillow, wide eyes looking up at mine.  
_ _ Not just any will do,  
_ _ Not when I only want you. _

Before he’s even aware that he’s doing it, he’s jotting down the words to the bridge, and with everything he’s written so far, he thinks he’s got enough for a whole song. He opens the doc he has on his phone with all the lyrics he’s written for this song, and though it takes him about fifteen minutes of rearranging and then re-rearranging, he finally gets them the way they’re meant to be. 

He sits back on the couch, his eyes still glued to his phone, not quite believing that he’s finally done it. He’s finally finished the song that’s been clawing at him for the last—how many years has it been now? He doesn’t even know! But he’s done. And maybe he’s biased because it wound up being about Cas and all the things he loves about him, but he really thinks it’s some of his best work. 

It started off sad and hopeless, but although the chorus stays the same all the way through the song, the music changes from heart wrenching to heart warming, and he knows the first time he sings it all the way through he’s going to cry his eyes out. Which is why even though he plays it through twice on the guitar to keep the recording on his phone, he doesn’t do anymore than mouth the lyrics. He doesn’t want to cry anymore than he already has this week, but he also feels like this song has been meant for his soulmate all along, so he wants Cas to be there the first time he plays it.

With Cas and everything he just wrote about him so fresh in his mind, he puts his guitar down and swipes to the texting app.

**DEAN:** I think I just finished Lock and Key.  
**CAS: **I like the title, and from what I could hear, it sounds incredible.   
**DEAN:** I was thinking about you. I think I was writing it about you since I started.   
**CAS:** I hoped you were  
**DEAN:** I never really thought about it until I was just playing, but I must’ve driven you crazy with the song-writing all these years.  
**CAS: **You did 😄 the night before we met, I was up all night because you just kept singing the hook over and over and over.   
**CAS: **I almost didn’t go to The Roadhouse because I was so tired.   
**DEAN: **I guess I should apologize lol  
**CAS: **No need. All it took was one look at you and I wasn’t mad about who my soulmate was anymore 😄  
**DEAN:** Flatterer   
**CAS:** Embroidery, Dean.   
  
Dean cracks up at the memory.   
  
**DEAN:** Fair point 😂 It worked for you though, because I was sunk as soon as you did that.   
**CAS:** Shut up, you were not.   
**DEAN:** I freaking was! I should write a song about it. Embroider My Name On Your Heart has a nice ring to it.   
**CAS:** Don’t you dare!  
**DEAN:** I miss you so damn much  
  
He stares at the words for thirty very long seconds before he hits send. Thankfully, Cas answers fast enough he doesn’t have time to stress about it.   
  
**CAS:** I miss you, too.   
**CAS: **I keep telling myself it’s silly, because it’s not like we were seeing each other every day before.   
**DEAN: **We talked more though.   
**CAS: **I told you I’m willing to talk whenever you want  
**DEAN: **Yeah, I know.   
**DEAN: **Sam came over tonight.   
**CAS:** Did you tell him I lied?  
**DEAN:** Yeah. Sorry if that makes things awkward for you.   
**CAS:** Don’t be. I decided to lie on my own, I'll make amends on my own, too. Thanks for the heads up.  
**DEAN: **I’m not sure you’re going to have to make too many amends when it comes to Sam. He sorta helped me think about the good parts of finding out you’re my soulmate instead of focusing on the bad. That’s what made me wanna write about you.   
**CAS: **Maybe I should buy him a fruit basket   
  
Dean bursts out laughing a second time.   
**  
DEAN: **Would probably make his year, the nerd.   
**CAS:** Honestly though, I’m glad you have somebody to talk to about all of this who isn’t me.   
  
Though he’s sure Cas didn’t mean it to, that makes him feel bad for Cas not having anybody he can talk to. He feels so much better after talking to Sam that he wishes Cas had a chance to talk things out with somebody else, too.   
  
**DEAN:** If you had anything you wanted to get off your chest, Sammy would probably let you gab his ear off. Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s a pretty good listener.   
**CAS:** Thank you, but I think at this point the only thing that will make me feel better is you.   
  
Almost immediately, he feels an overwhelming need to do or be whatever Cas needs.   
  
**DEAN: **What can I do?  
**CAS: **You’re very sweet, I just meant I don’t think I’ll feel completely better until we see each other and I know for sure that everything’s going to be okay.   
**DEAN: **Are you still thinking we need time away from each other?  
**CAS: **Honestly, I’m not feeling half as bad as I was before we talked last night. I still don’t think it’s a bad idea to take a bit of a breather, but I don’t think it needs to be weeks or months apart or anything.   
**DEAN: **Could I take you on a date Friday night?  
**CAS:** A date? A real date?  
**DEAN: **Yeah. A real date. I wanna see you again and spend time with you, see if we can get things back to the way they were, only without any secrets between us this time.   
**DEAN: **Sam thought starting small with a few hours at a time in a public setting would help us keep things casual enough that we wouldn’t fuck it up anymore.   
**CAS:** I would love to go on a date with you, but I just want you to be really, really sure before I say yes. I’m not used to all of this emotional back-and-forth, and honestly, I don’t know how well I would handle a second heartbreak right now.   
**DEAN:** I’m not gonna break your heart, Cas. Not ever again.   
**CAS:** I’m still not entirely sure I deserve you  
**DEAN:** Well I’M entirely sure you deserve the world, Cas. We’re gonna make this work, okay? Because there isn’t anybody else I want to be with. If we have to go on 100 dates before it starts to feel normal again, I’m still up for that. I’ll still be there.   
**CAS: **Me too. However long it takes. All I want is to make you happy again. And maybe get a really big hug.   
**DEAN: **I’m already happier now than I was before I texted you, so you’re getting there. And a hug is a no-brainer 😊   
**CAS: **You might have to pry me out of your arms   
**DEAN:** That’ll never happen  
**CAS: **Good 😃   
**CAS:** To be honest, I’m kind of nervous already. I haven’t been on a date in... well, not since I left college.   
**DEAN:** I still can’t believe that. Did you get asked out all the time?  
**CAS: **I got asked out last week lol Not all the time though. Most people can read disinterest well enough, and if not, well, it’s not my problem they got mad when I said no.   
**DEAN:** They can all die mad, because you’re with me now.   
**CAS:** Die mad? That’s a whole new level of possessiveness, even for you.   
**DEAN:** Yeah 😬 I really have to work on reining that shit in, sorry   
**CAS: **I thought it was really hot when you were growling it into my ear in bed, but to be completely honest with you... I think it might be awhile before I can hear you talk like that without remembering how awful I felt afterwards  
  
Dean feels sick himself at the thought of his actions making Cas feel anything but cared for and respected. He promises himself right here and now that to make up for it, he will lavish Cas with so much praise and love the next _fifty_ times he’s lucky enough to touch him.   
  
**DEAN: **I get that. I’m so fucking sorry that it even happened like that in the first place, and I promise it won’t happen again. That’s not the kinda guy I wanna be. Especially not with you.   
**CAS: **You have shown me time and time again what a good man you really are. I know you were understandably angry and not in control of your emotions that day, I just wanted to mention that possessiveness might be a bit of a trigger for me moving forward.   
**DEAN:** I’m so sorry. I’ll do better, Cas, I swear.   
**CAS: **Thank you for listening and understanding.   
**DEAN: **I think I’ll spend the rest of my life wishing I could take what I said back.   
**CAS:** I know what you mean, but all we can do is move forward. Bury that no-so-good memory so far under newer and happier ones until it can’t see the light of day anymore.   
**DEAN:** Probably be ages before you’re ready for any more memories like that  
**DEAN:** Understandably, obviously.   
**CAS:** I don’t think that’s true. Not if you kiss me how you kissed me on the couch Friday night.   
  
He remembers it well. He loved it, too, going slow and reading Cas’s body for every clue about what he was into and what he wasn’t.   
  
**DEAN:** That’s how it should’ve been Saturday.   
**CAS: **I’m sure it will be like that the next time 😊 Don’t beat yourself up too much over it, okay? We both said things we wish we could take back.  
**DEAN:** No promises there, but I’ll try my best.   
**DEAN: **How was your day before I interrupted it with my song writing?  
**CAS: **Quiet. Long.   
  
Dean reads: _lonely. _But he might be projecting.   
  
**DEAN:** You should take your book out on the patio. People watch.   
**CAS: **That isn’t a bad idea. It usually helps.   
**DEAN:** Is it okay if we Facetime the next time I want to talk? I’m getting sore thumbs lol  
**CAS:** Anytime.  
**DEAN:** Alright, maybe tomorrow, then. Thanks for the chat. Hope the rest of your night is better than your day.   
**CAS:** There’s a good chance now that we’ve talked 😊 I’ll talk to you later, Dean.   
**DEAN: **Later Cas   
  
It’s actually ridiculous how much better he feels after talking to Cas and cementing plans for a date Friday, but he tells himself that’s how he knows it’s right. He keeps himself busy the rest of the night by Googling good first date ideas in Denton, and by the time he’s ready for bed, he’s all warm inside thinking about how he’s going to sweep Cas off of his feet and show him how good a first date can really be. 

Even though he told Cas he’d call next time, he sends one more text once he gets into bed. 

**DEAN:** Goodnight, sweetheart.  
**CAS: ** Goodnight Dean ❤️  
  
And it turns out what’s  _ really _ ridiculous is the size of the smile one heart emoji can put on his face.


	11. Chapter 11

Casual.

Dean told him to “dress casual.”

How do you dress casually for a date?

How do you dress casually for a first date with the man you know you’re going to spend the rest of your life with? Especially when the last time you saw him, you were half-naked and kicking him out of your apartment?

God, what a terrible, terrible couple of days it was when he thought he lost Dean forever. Thankfully, after talking so thoroughly with Dean once they finally reconnected, he feels much better. He knows things aren’t going to be perfect, and honestly, he’s a little nervous that it might be awkward between them tonight. But he’s ready to work through that, because despite the fact that Dean said some pretty awful things to him, he still wants to be with him. Thanks to the two weeks they spent getting to know each other before Dean found out the truth, he knows that Dean’s a better person than he was that one morning a week ago. He knows that Dean’s the kind of man who made sure he got home safe the first time they met even when Dean was so drunk he could hardly stand up straight, and that Dean wouldn’t accept Castiel’s first kiss when he was high because Dean wasn’t sure it’s really what Castiel wanted. He knows Dean is the kind of man who takes his own air conditioner out to install at Castiel’s house just so he could sleep more comfortably, then offers to take it out all over again just so Castiel didn’t feel pressured into sleeping in the same bed as Dean before he was ready.

Dean has showed him over and over again that _ that _ is who he is, and although he’s still hurt from the mean things Dean said, he’s nowhere close to being ready to give up on Dean. To give up on _ them. _

So he’s going to do what Sam suggested they do: start over from the beginning and take things nice and slow. He’s going to be honest with Dean and let him know what he is and isn’t okay with, he’s going to continue to apologize for his own bad behavior and prove to Dean that he can be a trustworthy partner, and if he gets his way, he’s going to live happily ever after with his soulmate. But before he can get into any of that, he _ really _ needs to pick a shirt. 

He stands in front of his closet, once again staring at the clothes hanging inside, thinking for the millionth time that this would be so much easier if Dean told him where they were going tonight or at least what they were doing.

But no, all he got was, “Don’t eat, and dress casual.”

He’s settled on jeans, because that’s as casual as he feels comfortable getting when it comes to dressing for a date. He had a button-up black shirt on, but he’s already warm and he’s inside, so he knows that won’t work. With a sigh, he unbuttons it and throws it onto the pile of clothes already on the floor, and _ thinks. _

Casual, but nice enough that he won’t feel like a slob.

A t-shirt, he decides, but a nice one. That narrows things down considerably, and with the clock literally ticking down with less than five minutes until Dean’s supposed to arrive, he has to decide and decide _ now. _ He grabs a white, v-neck t-shirt, and his lips quirk at the tiny penguins that decorate the fabric like polka dots. He bought it thinking they were dots and hadn’t even noticed they were penguins until the lady at the checkout mentioned it. 

Thinking that this is the kind of thing Dean is likely to get a kick out of, he tosses it on and grabs a light beige canvas jacket to go over it. He finds his aviators in case they wind up doing something outdoors, steps into his go-to black Vans, and figures that’s as good as it gets.

He barely straightens up when he hears the buzzer. His heart flip flops in his chest, and he presses the answer button. “Hello, Dean.”

“Let me up, I’ve been stalling down here for so long people are starting to look at me funny.”

Castiel already has a stupid smile on his face when he hits the unlock button, and Dean’s knocking on his door so fast he doesn’t even have a chance to wipe it off before he’s pulling the door open.

Dean takes him in with one lingering sweep of his eyes from head to foot, and Castiel does the same to him. It’s surprisingly good to see him again. It’s only been a week, but it felt so much longer, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he would feel when he finally got another look at him. It’s a relief to know he still sees _ his _ Dean in front of him, and not the version of Dean he got the last time he saw him. 

He notices Dean’s also dressed in jeans, the boots he’s used to seeing on his feet, and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt that somehow manages to drape over his shoulders, hug his biceps, and cling to his hips all at the same time, and all Castiel can think of for what he’s sure is way too long is how Dean’s upper body makes such a tantalizing triangle.

“You look—christ, I missed you,” Dean breathes. Castiel’s eyes flick back up to Dean’s, and he smiles ear-to-ear when he sees the faint blush on Dean’s cheeks. “Can I give you a hug?”

“Yes please,” Castiel responds, and in the next breath, Dean steps in and envelopes him in his arms. It feels careful at first, and he’s not sure if that vibe is coming from him or Dean, but he doesn’t like it. 

“I’m so fucking sorry, Cas,” Dean croaks.

“I know.” That helps release some of the tension he was unintentionally holding in his shoulders, and he’s able to tuck his face into Dean’s neck. He breathes in that manly, spicy scent that is _ all _ Dean, and for the first time in a week, he feels like he’s where he’s supposed to be. “I missed you so much,” he whispers, squeezing Dean a little bit tighter.

He feels Dean’s lips brush his temple and he’s pretty sure his heart is going to burst before he even gets out of the still open doorway, but he’s okay with that. This is good. He can work with this. 

That’s when Dean steps back with a sideways smile on his face. “Gotta make it out the door to have a good first date, right?” Dean asks. “Oh shit, I almost forgot.” He puts his hand in his back pocket and holds a little packet out for him. “I got this for you.”

Castiel takes the offered gift with his eyebrows drawn together, confused about why Dean is bringing him a gift. [There’s what looks like a bracelet on a thin, black cord tied around the packet with a tiny golden bee in the middle of it, and there seems to be something inside the packet as well.](https://i.imgur.com/OrkaIZo.jpg) He shakes it, hears the rattle, and looks up in confusion.

“It’s wildflower seeds,” Dean tells him. “I was gonna get you flowers, but then I remembered you’re a ‘save the environment’ kinda guy and I felt like giving you what’s basically a dying plant would be the wrong way to go.” Dean rubs the back of his neck and says, “The website said the seeds will grow pretty much anywhere, so this way you get to plant flowers and save the bees and all that stuff instead of just looking at some that have already been cut.”

It’s such a thoughtful gesture that he’s completely speechless. Dean obviously takes it the wrong way, because the next words out of his mouth are, “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, it was a dumb idea—”

“This is the nicest thing—the _ sweetest _ thing—anybody has ever done for me,” Castiel interrupts him. Then, as it occurs to him that’s not entirely true, he amends, “Well, other than that song you wrote me.”

Dean seems to perk up at that. “Yeah?”

“Yes. I was speechless from your kindness, not because I was disappointed,” he reiterates. Then, following his instincts, he steps forward and places a chaste kiss on Dean’s cheek. His face is flaming when he pulls away, but he forces himself to say, “Thank you, Dean.”

“It was nothing,” Dean waves it away. “You ready to go?”

“Yes.” Castiel tucks the package into his jacket pocket carefully and nods towards the hallway. Dean walks out and Castiel falls into step next to him, feeling entirely too aware of how much more space is between them than usual while they walk to the elevator. “So, are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

“It’s nothing too exciting,” Dean replies. “You said when we ate at The Roadhouse that you like burgers, right?”

Once again, his heart warms knowing that Dean paid so much attention to him when they talked before. “I love a good burger.”

“Have you ever been to LSA Burger?”

“Once,” Castiel admits. “For lunch with my parents after graduation.”

“Okay, cool. I’ve been a couple of times with Sam, and the, uh, night scene is something else completely. I think you’ll like it.”

“What’s different about it at night?” Castiel wonders. 

“Did you eat up on the roof the last time you were there?” Dean asks. 

“No, on the main floor.”

“Well, I’m not gonna spoil the surprise then,” Dean decides. He hits the down button now that they’ve arrived at the elevator, and Castiel’s heart starts racing when they fall into eye contact while they wait. Is it awkward? Is he overthinking this? “I think your eyes got even bluer since I saw you last.”

Because he can feel the heat rise to his cheeks yet again, he responds, “It would be great if we could get out of the building before you turned me into a blushing mess.”

Dean tries to hide a smirk, but he’s clearly pleased with himself. “Yeah, but what kind of fun would that be for me?” Dean teases. “Besides, you’re cute when you blush.”

Wanting to take back some of his dignity, he ignores his pink cheeks to ask, “Only when I blush?”

“Hell no,” Dean says emphatically. Then he squints and leans in a little bit. “Dude, what’s on your shirt?”

For a moment, he’s flustered enough that he thinks he has a stain or something on his shirt, but when Dean pokes one of the penguins, he feels himself relax again. “Penguins.”

“Penguins?”

Castiel shrugs, but bobs his head in response. “Yeah.”

The elevator dings, and Dean places his hand on Castiel’s lower back as if he’s going to guide him inside before it drops and Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets instead. “What’d I just say? Adorable.” 

Castiel looks down at his feet, feeling shy but confused about Dean’s unwillingness to touch him. Is Dean still mad at him, or does he think his touch isn’t welcome? Gathering up his courage, Castiel lifts his head and looks at the gorgeous man next to him. “It’s really good to see you again. Thank you for not hating me.”

Dean nods, and though he can’t quite put his finger on how, he can tell something in his expression has closed off a little bit. It only seems to last for a second though, and then Dean’s lips curve up slightly and he replies, “Told you I could never hate you.”

There’s a twinkle in Dean’s green eyes now, and like always, his teasing mood is infectious. Just making eye contact has that crazy connection between them sparking to life. He drifts closer without fully meaning to, and he’s sure Dean does the same considering they’re only inches apart now, but the moment is broken when the elevator doors open. 

Dean clears his throat and gestures to the open doors. “After you.” Castiel leads the way towards the main doors of the apartment building, and although they remain close to one another, it’s quiet between them as they walk to the guest parking where the Impala waits for them. Dean surprises him by jogging a few steps and opening the car door, and Castiel makes sure to aim a thankful smile in his direction before climbing into the passenger seat. 

Dean gets into the car and starts the engine. He seems to stop halfway through putting his arm on the back of the seat when he starts to back up, then silently pulls onto the street once it’s safe. That’s enough to confirm that this isn’t all in his head, Dean is actively avoiding touching him. He’s about to ask Dean if he’s uncomfortable or if Dean just thinks Castiel is when Dean beats him to the punch.

“Hey, uh, remember when we were FaceTiming that one time and we talked about what we had to do to make this work for both of us?” 

The boldness of the question surprises him, but he nods. “Yes, of course.” It had been an important conversation, so it’s not something he’s likely to forget anytime soon, and he can see why it might be on Dean’s mind now.

“I think we gotta do that again, ‘cause I don’t know what’s okay here and what’s not.”

“Okay,” Castiel says carefully. He hates to bring it up, but he answers truthfully. “Possessive language or behavior is a hard no for me right now, but I know you already know that. So other than that.” He shrugs. “I’m comfortable with anything you’re comfortable with.”

“So if I wanted to park somewhere, pull you into my lap, and grind until we fogged up the windows, you’d be okay with that?” Dean questions, conveying with his tone of voice that he already knows the answer.

“Okay, maybe not _ that _ comfortable,” Castiel laughs nervously. “I was thinking more along the lines of physical affection on a typical first date. If you wanted to put your arm around me or hold me for whatever reason, I would be okay with that. I would actually like that a lot,” he rephrases. 

“Holding hands?”

Castiel’s lips twitch into a smile. Now that Dean knows they’re soulmates, he’s more than okay with holding hands with him. “Yes.”

Dean’s smile grows. “Kissing?”

“Yes.” Except the nerves twisting in his stomach is enough to tell him he isn’t as comfortable as he wants to be, so he qualifies it with, “Gentle kissing.” 

“Got it,” Dean replies. 

“Are you okay with all of that?” Castiel wonders. 

Dean slides his eyes over to him to check if he’s serious, Castiel guesses, once he asks, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Castiel chews his bottom lip, considering what he wants to say and how to say it. “I hurt you. I’m glad we’ve decided to try to move forward, but I don’t expect things to just go back to the way they were before. It’s okay if you need time to adjust, to get comfortable with this again.”

“Yeah. Alright.” Dean blows out a long breath. “I know that I hurt you too, but now that I know what’s okay on your end, I can just... do what feels natural without wondering if I’m going to make you upset if I try to hold your hand.”

“I won’t be upset with that at all, but there’s also no expectations on my end,” Castiel reiterates. “If we need to be friends right now, I can do that.”

“No,” Dean replies. “We barely managed the friends thing the first time. I don’t wanna be your friend, Cas. I want to be with you for real.”

“I want that, too. Let’s try to stop overthinking everything and just have a good time, okay?” he asks. 

Though it might just be in his head, he feels like their ongoing small talk is more comfortable after that as Dean continues to drive towards The Square. Once they reach the restaurant, Dean complains, “Parking’s always shit down here on the weekends.” He helps Dean keep an eye out for a spot, and although they circle the restaurant twice, on the third go-around, they get lucky and snag a spot from a car on its way out. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dean exclaims. “Thought we were gonna have to park a mile away and walk.”

“That still would’ve been fine, but this worked out well,” Castiel says. Though he’s sure Dean would have done it for him, he opens his door and tilts his head up to look at the roof of the restaurant once he’s out now that he knows there’s seating up there. 

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” Dean asks, suddenly right behind him.

He aims a smile over his shoulder. “No, I just can’t believe I work a few blocks from here and I never noticed there was a restaurant on the roof.”

“Worked out for me, ‘cause now I get to use it to woo you,” Dean says, sliding his arm around his shoulders in a friendly way. 

“Believe me, there is very little wooing necessary when it comes to you and me.”

Dean’s smile spreads happily. “Still. You deserve to have a good date. You’ve been waiting long enough.”

“It’s already the best date I’ve been on.”

“Maybe I should quit while I’m ahead,” Dean says. 

“But I’m hungry,” he pouts, and Dean laughs, tugging him towards the door. 

It’s noisy inside, with plenty of people waiting, and before Dean even gets a word out to the hostess, she says, “You’re looking at an hour wait, minimum.”

“I’ve got a reservation for two under Winchester,” he replies.

She perks up, checks the list, grabs two menus, and says, “Right this way.”

Because Dean looks proud of himself, Castiel can’t resist saying, “Smooth,” just loud enough for Dean to hear him. He gets a gentle shove from behind for it, and he’s chuckling happily over how much more normal things are starting to feel between them already when he makes his way up the three flights of stairs (which are painted like piano keys) to the roof. The hostess seats them at a tall table with a couple of bar stools, so Castiel gets himself situated across from Dean and looks around. He takes in the decor—the chandelier made of beer bottles, the map of Texas made from parts of musical instruments, and several funky art pieces, centering on a huge portrait of The Last Supper featuring Jesus and... “Who are those guys supposed to be?” Castiel wonders, looking at the people sitting with him at the table.

“Dude,” Dean says, clearly judging him. “You don’t know _ any _ of them?”

Castiel looks at them again more closely, not recognizing a single one. “No. Should I?’

“Cas, Cas, Cas,” Dean chides, shaking his head. “What’m I gonna do with you?”

“You could tell me who they are,” he tries.

“They’re Texan musicians. The one with the braids is Willie Nelson, Janis Joplin is there—”

“Okay, smart guy,” he teases. “The names are all on the plates underneath. I just didn’t know who they were.”

“Well, I guess I got a whole lotta new music to introduce you to, then. These guys are legends, Cas. I can’t believe you don’t know anything by Janis Joplin!”

“Have you ever played anything by her?”

Dean shakes his head. “She’s awesome, but not the sorta thing I sing.”

“That’s why I don’t know it, then,” Castiel tells him. “Actually, if you think about it, it’s really _ your _ fault I don't know her music since the only music I listen to on a regular basis is yours.”

Dean snorts out a laugh. “Good try.”

“I thought so,” Castiel says with a smile. 

Dean’s laughing quietly when he opens up his menu. Castiel decides to follow suit, but he barely glances down at his own before Dean says, “I hope you don’t mind me taking you here. I know this place isn’t much. The food’s cheap and the atmosphere is more like a bar than the nice kind of place you probably expected. Hell, your chair doesn’t even have a back to it.”

“I was actually thinking how cool this place is before I commented on the mural,” Castiel admits. “I know it’s not stereotypical first date fancy, but it’s nice not to feel stuffy and be overly formal with you.”

“I always feel like I’ve got two left feet when I’m in one of those fancy-schmancy places,” Dean says sheepishly. “Figured we’d have enough pressure on us as it is, and it’d be easier to enjoy each other’s company here.”

He hates the idea of Dean thinking there’s any kind of pressure on him, but he appreciates that he tried to do what would make this easier on both of them. He wants to continue to keep things as painless as possible, so instead of diving in too deep, he tries to keep things light. “I think it’s great, and I’m definitely enjoying the company so far,” Castiel says. “What are you getting to drink?”

“Beer,” Dean answers. “They have some great local stuff here.”

“Huh,” Castiel says, giving the list a second look. The frozen drinks have already caught his eye though, and considering the sun is beating in through the window next to them, something ice cold might really hit the spot. The only problem is, there’s so many flavors he doesn’t even know where to start with picking one. He’s about to ask Dean for his opinion when his eyes are pulled to a margarita flight, advertised as, ‘All the flavors! No commitment!’ and he knows his mind is made up. “The flight of margaritas looks fun.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, eyeing him contemplatively. “Never pictured you as a fruity drink guy after the way you pounded back those shots at The Roadhouse.”

“Well I’m glad you got to see me in my prime, because I’m never drinking like that again. Fruity drinks might be all I can handle from now on.”

“Uh huh,” Dean chuckles. 

“What?” Castiel asks.

“Nothing,” Dean lies. “I just can’t wait to rub this in your face the next time you get hammered.”

“Oh, that’s so nice of you,” he laughs. “It’s good to know you’re the kind of person that says ‘I told you so.’”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Dean says without shame. “There are few things better in life than being right, and there’s no way you’re never gonna get drunk again.”

He doesn’t get a chance to keep their playful banter going, because just then, their waitress comes over to take their drink order. She tells him he made a good choice with the margaritas, and he smiles smugly at Dean when she walks away. 

Dean shakes his head and glances back down at his menu, but Castiel notices he has a small smile on his lips that makes his heart sing. They talk about the appetizers and decide to order Brisket Queso, then move onto their meals. When Dean finds out he’s never had the garlic parm herb fries, he insists on sharing an order and promises Castiel he won’t regret it. With that settled and both of them knowing they’re going to have burgers, the only real decision they have left is to narrow down what kind. It turns out to be harder than he expected, and they go back and forth debating for quite a bit before he settles on the “Chili Willie Burger” and Dean goes with a “Ready Freddie.’ 

When he looks at the description for Dean’s and sees it has pickles, he almost changes his mind again, but that’s when their drinks are delivered and he decides to just stick with what he said to Dean. It’s a good thing, too, because Dean takes the reins and orders for them both. He didn’t expect Dean to do that, and even though he doesn’t have time to analyze why at the moment, he finds it surprisingly hot. 

Something must show on his face, because as soon as the waitress leaves, Dean asks him, “What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“How am I looking at you?” he wonders.

“I dunno,” Dean answers. “Like I’m Superman or something.”

Castiel shrugs a single shoulder, but admits, “I’ve never had a date order for me before. It was... surprisingly attractive.”

Dean’s eyes go comically wide. “Shit, did you want something?”

Castiel laughs at his joke, noticing again that Dean almost preens from his laughter. He doesn’t understand how a man who looks like Dean and who is as kind, funny, and talented as Dean seeks reassurance, but he must, and Castiel makes a mental note to reassure him as often as possible. 

“You look good, Cas,” Dean says suddenly. “It’s good to see you laugh.”

“It’s good to have somebody to make me laugh again.”

“I know we talked, but it’s not really the same, you know?” Dean asks. 

Castiel nods, because as nice as it had been to talk to Dean, it’s his presence that’s really filled the seven-day-old empty space in his chest. “It’s not, no,” Castiel agrees. “I’m glad we’re here. Trying.”

“It’s not as hard as I thought it’d be,” Dean tells him.

“No?”

Dean shakes his head, and their eyes catch across the small table. “Just... bein’ with you feels right, you know? It always did, I guess, but at least now I get why and don’t have to try to fight it.”

“If that was you trying to fight it before, you didn’t do a very good job,” he teases gently.

“I didn’t really have a lot of motivation,” Dean says with a shrug. “All I wanted was to be with you.”

That makes his heart skip a beat, and he can feel his face getting warm from Dean’s words and his heavy gaze. “You can be with me as often as you want to now.”

“Careful what you offer up,” Dean grins. “You underestimate how much I hate my apartment.”

“I don’t need to be careful. I wouldn’t complain if I saw you every day.”

“Famous last words,” Dean teases. 

Castiel feels warm all over now, and he shrugs his jacket off before he realizes there’s no back of the chair to put it on. He glances around, and ultimately drapes it over his lap, which is when he hears the seeds in his pocket rattle around. He digs the packet out and takes the bracelet off of it, then asks Dean, “Will you tie this on my wrist for me?”

“You don’t have to wear it,” Dean tells him. “I know it’s sorta girly. I got it mostly for the seeds.”

“Maybe the bee is a little feminine, but I don’t mind that. It’ll make me feel pretty,” Castiel quips, and though Dean smiles, something flashes in his eyes that reminds him of how Dean looked at him when they were kissing on the couch. Arousal? _ Interesting. _ “Please?”

“Like I’m gonna say no to you,” Dean says under his breath. Castiel hands Dean the bracelet and then drops his hand onto the table. Dean slides the bracelet under his wrist and crosses the two ends, leaving a little bit of space. “Good?”

“A little tighter,” Castiel requests, and Dean follows his directions, securing the bracelet in place with some fancy-looking knot. 

Dean turns Castiel’s hand over to admire the bee on the back of his wrist. Dean’s fingers slide underneath, brushing his thumb over the small charm before declaring, “Looks good.”

“I like it.” It’s ridiculous that his heart starts racing just from Dean’s fingers on his wrist, but he’s sure Dean will be able to feel his pulse going crazy. He wonders if he should pull his hand back or if it’s okay to leave it there, and as if Dean can sense his indecision, he moves his hand down a few inches so it’s more like his hand is covering Castiel’s rather than holding his wrist. They still have eye contact, and he knows there’s no way Dean’s missing how big he’s smiling, so he should probably say something to avoid smiling at each other across the table like a couple of idiots all night. The first thing that comes to mind is, “I’m having a really good time.”

“Me, too,” Dean replies, licking his lips. “Guess what?”

“What?” he asks breathlessly.

“I got the edited video back from Charlie today.”

“Already?” Castiel exclaims, forgetting for a split second that they’re inside, in a restaurant, and that he shouldn’t be raising his voice even if he is excited.

Dean’s smile is so wide, though, it’s hard to feel apologetic. “Jeez, don’t get excited or anything.”

“Sorry, you surprised me,” Castiel laughs. “How does it look?” he asks eagerly.

“Awesome. She cleared out some of the background noise I didn’t even notice was there until I compared the two videos, and I swear she used autotune or something because my voice sounds better than I’ve ever heard it.”

“Did you ask her about it?”

“She swears it’s all me,” Dean answers with a roll of his eyes.

“I bet it is, then. You sounded amazing.”

“I wanna leave the kiss in,” Dean tells him. 

He’s surprised by the bold statement because they haven’t talked about that at all since Jess mentioned it the day it happened. “I’m not against the idea, but don’t you think it might help jump start your career for people to think the handsome face singing to them is available?”

“I’m not gonna lie about you,” Dean answers immediately. “I’ve been waiting for you forever. Now that I found you, I wanna scream it from the rooftops.”

“You’re at the right place,” Castiel jokes, and Dean laughs.

“Don’t tempt me.” That prompts a huff of laughter from him this time. “Charlie thought keeping the kiss in might help because of the romance angle. To me, it seems pretty clear that it’s a real moment, but she thought people, like online entertainment sites and stuff, might be curious enough to ask for an interview to get the exclusive or whatever.”

Castiel frowns. “You want to talk about kissing me for the first time to an entertainment site?”

“You don’t want me to?” Dean guesses.

“I’ll have to sit and think about it a little bit more, but my first reaction is no,” he confirms. “I don’t mind having it included in the video to draw people in if you think it will help, but it feels... wrong to have you talk about such an important moment with a bunch of strangers, don’t you think?”

“Why is talking about it weirder than showing it?”

“Because,” Castiel flounders, pulling his hand away and sitting up straighter now that he’s rattled. “Because people can make up their own version of what’s happening in the video when they watch it, but to have you confirm what really happened to who knows how many people? I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

“Hey,” Dean says softly. “Don’t start spinning on me, we’re just talking, okay? If you don’t want me to talk about specifics, I won’t,” he promises. “I’m not gonna be able to include it and say nothing though, so we’ll have to figure out what’s okay and what isn’t, or if we should just pull it altogether.”

He looks away, up to the beer bottle chandelier, and then after still feeling too exposed, back down at the bee charm on his wrist. There’s plenty of emotions swirling inside of him, but the biggest one is probably the one he should put a voice to, even as uncomfortable as it’s going to make him. 

“I don’t want everybody to know I lied to you,” he says quietly. “I already feel bad enough that our first kiss was when I was keeping something so big from you, and people are _ horrible _ on the internet. If they figure it out, there will be a million people badmouthing me and telling you how you can do so much better than somebody like me, and the next thing you know I’ll be all alone all over again and it’ll be my own fault—”

“Cas, no,” Dean says gently. “I’d never tell anybody that part. The only people who are ever gonna know that are Sam and Jess, and they’ll take it to their graves.” Castiel can only nod his head, still feeling shaken up and raw. “And for the record, if I couldn’t talk myself out of giving this another shot after everything that already happened between us, there isn’t a damn thing anybody else could ever say to make me not wanna be with you, okay?” He nods one more time, blinking back tears and trying to swallow down the thickness in his throat. Dean reaches out and takes his hand again, covering it with both of his hands this time. “You’re not gonna be alone anymore. Not ever again. You’re stuck with me now.”

Castiel offers a wobbly smile, sniffling pathetically. “I wanna be stuck with you.”

“Good,” Dean says back, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve watched that kiss a hundred times, you know,” Dean confesses quietly. “Maybe more. And yeah, maybe the first couple times I watched it after knowing we’re soulmates, I looked at it and got pissed off all over again knowing that you did that when you were lying to me.”

“I’m sor—”

“But,” Dean says over him. “All I had to do was look at the expression on your face. Your big blue eyes are all wide and so fucking full of—of wonder and love—well, not _ love, _ but you know what I mean,” he stumbles. “Emotion or whatever, and it’s impossible to look at you and think you were trying to hurt me. You were swept up in the moment, and the stupid part is, that’s what I was going for! I wanted to get you all mushy inside so you’d forget about everything else that was bothering you, forget about your stupid soulmate, and look at me and know we could be so freaking happy together.” Dean’s lips quirk into a smile at the corner, and he adds, “Worked a little better than I expected it to, but I was actually _ trying _ to get an emotional reaction outta you. So if we’re gonna play the blame game there, at least half of it’s on me.”

“But you didn’t know what I was keeping from you and how much it would hurt you, and I did,” Castiel reminds him. “It was... the single best moment of my life so far, but I still shouldn’t have done it before I told you.”

“Well, same for me then. I could’ve stopped you. I knew you were lying to me but I wanted to be with you more than I wanted to know the truth, so I ignored it. It was my fault too.” Castiel shakes his head, not willing to put _ any _ of the blame on Dean, but Dean speaks again before he can make his mouth form the words he wants to say. “Listen, I know it’s sorta fucked up when you think about the whys and could’ves and should’ves, but I still... I still don’t regret it, Cas.” Castiel’s heart trips in his chest. “I really don’t. At the end of the day, I’m so freaking glad I wrote that song for you, and when I think back on that kiss now, all I can think about is that I don’t think _ anything _ will make me as happy as I was in that moment. I felt like I won the damn lottery,” he laughs. Then, more seriously, “I still do when we’re together.”

Overwhelmed with gratitude and emotion, Castiel turns his palm up and grasps at Dean’s hand desperately. Dean winds his fingers between his own, and his gaze is drawn to the way their hands fit together, Dean’s fingers filling the spaces between his more perfectly than he could have dreamed. 

“You—you should still be mad,” Castiel forces out. 

“So should you. And it comes and goes, if that makes you feel any better,” Dean says gently. “I just don’t think I realized how much I missed you ‘til you were right here, and it’s hard to care about the rest when I’ve got what I wanted all along.”

“So we’re just... over it all?”

Dean screws up his face. “I don’t know if I’d go _ that _ far. I still feel bad, and you’re clearly still beating yourself up about the lying stuff.”

Castiel huffs quietly, because Dean has no idea how full of regret he still is. “If you’re waiting for me to get over _ that _, I hope you know it’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

“We might be more alike than we thought,” Dean says with a sad little smile. Before he can comment on that, Dean says, “Hey, your line up of drinks is starting to melt. You might have to knock ‘em back like shots after all.” 

Castiel rolls his eyes fondly, and although it would probably be easier to reach for a drink with the hand closest to his drinks, he doesn’t want to let go of Dean yet, so he awkwardly reaches with the opposite hand. Dean laughs at his trouble, but he also brushes his thumb back and forth over the back of his hand, so he’s obviously not complaining. 

He takes the first sip from his drink and makes a pleased sound in his throat. “I don’t know what flavor this is, but it’s delicious. Want to try it?”

“Nah, doesn’t usually mix well with beer. Maybe when I’m done if you still have some left,” Dean answers. Castiel nods as he takes another drink, and Dean says, “I brought up the video because I think I’m gonna try and post it soon.”

His heart fills so fast it spreads his smile across his face as wide as it’s ever been. “I’m so proud of you.”

Dean scoffs, but his cheeks turn a delightful shade of pink. “I didn’t even do it yet.”

“But you plan to,” Castiel says. “I know it isn’t easy. Actually, I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it really is to put yourself out there like you are, but I’m sure it must be terrifying, and you’re going to do it anyway. I’m _ so _ proud of you,” he repeats. 

“Never would’ve done it without you,” Dean replies. “The video thing is the best idea any of us have ever had.”

“It was all Charlie,” Castiel insists. 

“Yeah, but you talked to her about it because it mattered to you. ‘Cause of me.”

“It wasn’t so selfless,” Castiel tells him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean argues gently. “It’s still because of you. Even Sam says so.”

“Well, if Sam says so, it must be true,” Castiel teases. 

“Shut up.” Castiel laughs loudly, and it’s then that their waitress comes over with the appetizer they ordered. He’s glad the service is a little slow because he’s enjoying Dean’s company, and he knows once they’re done here he’ll go back to his empty apartment without any idea when he’ll see Dean next. Thankfully, Dean’s an excellent distraction, especially when he launches into how Charlie designed a logo for him made from his initials in his own handwriting on a plain green background. Dean said he found it surprisingly cool, and Charlie was supposed to be using it to set up a professional-looking YouTube account for him tonight. Apparently she advised against posting his video on a weekend and said to wait until mid-week instead, and considering Charlie knows more about the internet than most people, Dean’s inclined to go with whatever she says. It makes sense to him, so he finds himself mostly nodding and digging into the brisket queso they ordered, which is absolutely delicious and fills him with high hopes for his main course.

They’ve all but licked the plate clean by the time the waitress comes to ask if they need more drinks, but Castiel has only finished half of his flight and Dean still has a quarter of his beer, so they decline and she assures them their food will be out shortly. Dean changes the subject and asks about work, so Castiel tells him about something funny that happened to him that morning.

“I was bent down behind the counter organizing the books we had on hold when I heard the bell ring, letting me know somebody was there. I look up, and I see an elderly man who’s been in a few times before, but his face was all red and he had a bag of purchases in one hand and his cane in the other. He was obviously struggling, so I say, ‘Good morning! How can I help you?’ And as I stand up, two things happened at the same time.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Dean says.

“The man says, ‘I’m losing my drawers—’” Dean laughs, and Castiel puts his finger up to tell him to wait before he finishes, “—at the _ exact _ same time I notice his pants are down around his knees, and his old man boxers are _ barely _ holding on.”

Dean finds this _ hilarious, _ and amid his laughter, he asks, “Did you get an eyeful?” 

Castiel grimaces and answers, “Let’s just say I learned that particular man’s baldness was limited to just his head.”

Dean throws his head back and cackles, and although he’s secretly amused by Dean’s reaction, he tries not to let on just how warm his insides are from the sight of Dean laughing so hard. 

“Honestly, I’m just glad that it was me and not Jess,” Castiel tells Dean.

“What, why?”

“Because I’m not sure Jess could’ve kept a straight face, and I wouldn’t want a customer laughed out of my store.”

That gets Dean started again, and he doesn’t understand why until he says, “Just thinking about how you saved yourself for your soulmate all this time and wound up getting a face-full of geezer pubes at a freaking bookstore.”

Castiel huffs a laugh at that, then shrugs a shoulder and says, “Maybe it’s karma. I lied, so I didn’t deserve to go my whole life with only seeing _ your _ pubes, I had to see the old guy’s too.”

Dean’s snicker turns into another full-blown laugh, and the more Castiel tries to keep a straight face, the harder Dean laughs, and just like that, they’re red-faced and snickering like a couple of twelve-year-olds who just saw a pair of breasts for the first time.

“It sounds like you two are having fun over here,” the waitress says as she approaches the table.

“Yeah, we’re having a ball,” Dean says. Then it’s almost like he chokes on his own words and _ cracks up _ all over again, and once Castiel realizes what he just said, he’s laughing along with him. Castiel’s stomach aches and Dean’s wiping tears away from the corners of his eyes by the time they finally settle down. “Jesus, I haven’t laughed that hard in _ years.” _

“I’m glad my embarrassment amuses you,” Castiel says dryly. 

“Wish I coulda seen your face.”

“Too bad we don’t have security cameras, I could’ve gotten you that for your birthday.” He’s reassembling his burger so that it’s as easy to eat as possible when it occurs to him he has no idea when Dean’s birthday actually is. “When _ is _ your birthday?”

“January,” he answers absently, openly staring at Castiel’s burger. “Hey, do you wanna share?”

Castiel looks between them at the plate of fries, wondering what else they could share. “Share what?”

“Burgers. I’ll cut you half of mine if you cut me half of yours. We can swap so we can each try both kinds _ and,” _ Dean pauses dramatically like he’s about to make him an offer he can’t refuse, “you can have my pickles.”

“You don’t like pickles?”

“Hell no,” Dean grimaces.

“Deal. I love pickles.”

“Ah well, nobody’s perfect.” Dean softens that with a wink that makes his heart skip a beat, and a minute later, they’ve swapped half of their burgers and all of their pickles. Dean holds up half of his burger, almost like he’s going to toast him, and although that’s weird, Dean’s open expression and anticipatory smile has him lifting his own just like Dean. Then, like he’s making a solemn toast, Dean says, “To the last first date.”

Castiel happily taps his burger against Dean’s for that, Dean’s smile is so bright it could light up the sky, and then, like it’s some kind of terrible rom-com, they both moan their appreciation in stereo. 

Dean comments first (with his mouthful), saying, “Holy shit, this is good.”

Castiel chews and nods before replying. “Mine is delicious, too.” Dean’s already got his mouth full again, so to dissuade him from talking around the massive bite rolling around in his mouth, he asks a question to buy him a few seconds. “Does that freak you out at all? The last first date part?”

Dean shakes his head and washes down his burger with a drink of beer. “Nah, for me, dating’s the sucky part you gotta suffer through to get to the good stuff.”

“Do you mean sex?”

Dean snorts a laugh. “No. I don’t have to date to get laid. _ Didn’t,” _ he corrects. “I _ didn’t _have to date to get laid.” Then he stops and makes a quiet, “Huh,” to himself. Before Castiel can ask, he says, “Guess those days are over.”

“... does _ that _ freak you out?” he asks again. 

“Realizing I’m never gonna be with anybody but you ever again?” Dean asks, and Castiel nods. “Want me to lie?”

His lips quirk into a smile. “No.”

“Freaks me out a little now that you brought it up,” he admits. 

Feeling bad for mentioning it, he says, “Sorry.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Dean concedes. “I was trying to get you to go out with me before anyway, only difference is now I know this is it, you know?”

“Would you do anything differently if you knew a few months ago we were about to meet?” Castiel wonders. 

“Would I have sowed my wild oats, you mean?” Dean laughs. “Nah, I don’t think so. You’re the only person I’ve been into for ages. Worked out the way it should’ve, I guess.”

“What did you mean about ‘the good stuff’ before, then?” He reaches out and selects one of the garlic parm fries, taking a bite off of one end and looking at it in surprise when so much flavor explodes on his tongue. “Holy shit.”

“Told ya,” Dean says with a smug grin. “The good stuff in a relationship is when it feels solid, you know?” Then, probably realizing that he doesn’t know, Dean continues, “You’re, uh, settled in, and comfortable with the other person. Sometimes it’s cuddling up on the couch or making out in the middle of the kitchen, but it’s also having half your stuff at their place, or peeing with the door open.” Castiel laughs at that and Dean takes another bite of his burger. “The beginning part’s always good ‘cause it’s new and exciting and everything’s so unbelievably hot, but I like it better when you know running out of things to talk about doesn’t mean you’re not compatible or whatever, but that you’re comfortable enough that you don’t need to fill every silence.”

Castiel speaks without thinking. “I’m glad I’ll get to have that with you.”

“I’m glad I’m the one who gets to show you how good it can be,” Dean says. “Though I gotta say, sharing burgers ain’t so bad, either.”

“I’m definitely not complaining about tonight,” Castiel assures him. “But I can see the appeal of when we’re both feeling more settled. I know it only happened twice, but I already miss sharing a bed with you.”

“You mean you miss strangling me in your sleep ‘cause you’re trying to cuddle so hard.”

Castiel’s jaw drops. “You’re the one that clamped down on me like the jaws of life anytime I tried to move!”

“Hey, it took a lot of hard work to get you in my arms back then,” Dean teases. “I wasn’t letting you sneak away when I was asleep.”

He likes the way that sounds, even if it is still said with a teasing tone of voice. Though he’s still mindful of trying to keep the conversation light, he wants to make sure Dean knows he’s entirely sincere about how much he enjoyed sharing a bed. “I’m not really complaining anyway. I loved every minute of it.”

He knows Dean gets it when his eyes soften. “Me too, Cas.”

He holds eye contact for a few seconds, enjoying the way Dean can make his insides all warm and gooey while it lasts, and then returns his attention to his meal. There’s some commotion at the back of the room, but before he can turn and check it out, a waiter with a large tray comes by to place two mini cups filled with what looks like beer on their table. 

Dean’s eyes light up as he says, “Oh man, I forgot about this! They do a toast to the sunset every night.”

The words have barely left his mouth when somebody starts talking into the microphone. He thanks everybody for spending their Friday night here at the LSA Bar and explains a little bit about the local brew and where it came from. Then he says, “Let’s all raise our glasses, and on the count of three, let’s give a big old cheers.” 

He counts down, and surprisingly, everybody stops their meal, their conversation, or whatever they were in the middle of, and every single one of them holds up their glass and shouts, “Cheers!”

He and Dean tap their tiny shot glasses together and drink down the mouthful of beer, which has Dean grinning. “Just like old times.”

“You wish,” Castiel tosses back, and Dean gives him a classic eyebrow wiggle.  
They’re interrupted by the same man talking into the microphone, thanking them again for coming out and saying that the live music will be starting momentarily.

“Live music?” Castiel asks Dean.

Dean shrugs, but by the smile on his face, he knows Dean knew. “What, didja think I’d just pay for a cheap dinner and take you home? What kinda date is that?” Dean asks. “They’ve got a Journey cover band here tonight, so we can hang out for as many frozen drinks as you want. Watch the sunset, listen to music, just... be together.”

Hearing that he isn’t going to be home alone in a half hour makes him feel like a weight has been lifted. Plus, he knows how much music means to Dean, and he’s looking forward to sharing something that Dean enjoys this much with him. “That sounds perfect.”

They both tuck into their meals more seriously after that, and in no time, their plates are cleaned. Well, as close as he could stomach, anyway. Dean finished off his whole meal, but as much as Castiel wanted to eat every bite, there were a few that had to be left behind because he was just too full. Although, after Dean prompts him again, he does go ahead and order himself a second round of margaritas since he knows they’ll be staying for a while, and by the time they arrive, the band is on stage and getting ready to start.

“Why don’t you bring your stool over here and watch with me?” Dean suggests. “That way I don’t spend the next however long starin’ at the back of your head.”

He checks out the surrounding area first to make sure he won’t be sitting in anybody else’s way, and deciding sitting close enough to Dean that he can touch him can’t possibly be a bad thing, he drags his stool over like Dean suggested. Dean makes it worth his while right off the bat when his hand sweeps up from his lower back to land on his shoulder. Dean gives it a little squeeze before he drops it back down to the base of his spine, and he leaves it there, right above the waistband of his jeans. Feeling bold, Castiel reaches out and lays his hand on Dean’s knee, which almost instantly moves closer to him.

“Better already,” Dean says into his ear, and apparently, the other improvement is that he’s close enough to feel Dean’s breath on his skin. If he thought it was appropriate, he’d climb right into Dean’s lap to lay his head on his shoulder and spend the whole concert just like that. Unfortunately, he’ll have to settle for this little bit of physical contact for tonight. 

He got settled into his seat just in time, because the first beat of the drums starts, and when the music kicks in, Dean laughs into his ear. “If they didn’t start with ‘Don’t Stop Believing,’ I would’ve been disappointed.”

Castiel turns his head to talk into Dean’s ear. “Do you like this song?”

“It’s Journey, man, what’s not to like?” Dean says over the music.

The music isn’t overbearingly loud, but still loud enough that he nods instead of answering out loud. He realizes he actually does recognize the song, something he must have either heard at home or on the radio out and about over the years, and so it’s nice to sit and watch the band play with Dean next to him. It doesn’t take long before Dean starts to sing quietly along with the music, and just like that, his night improves tenfold. As one song turns into the next, Dean continues singing along, Castiel finishes one margarita after another, and he feels himself drifting closer and closer until their stools have come together and he and Dean are pressed together from thigh to shoulder. With Dean’s arm still around him and his hand on his lower back, Castiel lets his head loll onto Dean’s shoulder the way he wanted all along, closing his eyes to soak up the moment. Dean’s touch has always been so comforting, and that’s still exactly how it feels now. Dean’s spicy, masculine scent fills his nostrils, the sound of Dean’s low voice sneaks straight into his heart, and the sensation of Dean’s fingers absentmindedly tapping the beat of the songs onto his spine has his body, mind, and soul flooded with pleasure.

He knows their relationship is far from perfect right now, but for the first time, he’s in Dean’s arms without any secrets between them, which means there’s nothing taking away any of the joy he’s currently feeling. There’s still left over guilt from lying to Dean in the first place, but any sense of ‘this is wrong’ is completely absent from his brain, and it’s incredible to finally be able to just _ be _ in Dean’s arms without worrying about anything else. For right now, for this incredible moment, they’re together, there’s no secrets between them, and they’re happy.

“Cas, look,” Dean says quietly. He lifts his head enough to follow Dean’s gaze out the window next to them and gets an eyeful of the sky lit up in a breathtaking shade of deep orange as the sun makes its descent. 

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and watching the sky change colors as the sun continues to set in Dean’s arms carves out a special place in his heart even as it’s happening. He tries not to let his mind drift, but it’s impossible not to think about he and Dean in that old fixer-upper on the outskirts of town he daydreams about, wrapped up in each other just like this, watching the sunset anytime they want to. Just the two of them. 

“No wonder they toast to this every night. It’s breathtaking.”

He feels Dean’s lips plant a chaste kiss on his neck, making goosebumps pop up along his skin as Dean says, “Ain’t got nothin’ on you, sweetheart.”

His heart flips in his chest, but it was such a line that he huffs out a laugh at the same time, aiming a fond smile in Dean’s direction. “Do lines like that typically work?”

Dean grins. “You tell me.”

“I wish I could stomach lying to you again,” Castiel replies, and Dean laughs loudly. Even though it’s right in his ear, Castiel can’t help but smile at the sound. Dean seems to be enjoying himself as much as he is, and he can only hope this is the start of only good things for the two of them.

They clap when the current song ends, and the lead singer speaks into the microphone. “I know y’all have been waiting for this song, so here comes Open Arms.”

“This used to be one of my favorite songs growing up,” Dean tells him. “My dad used to play it in the Impala all the time, and I’d sing along at the top of my lungs.” Dean chuckles quietly. “He never bitched about it, either. I mean, he did a lotta times when he’d hear me singing, but for whatever reason, not this song.” 

Castiel returns his attention to the band on stage after hearing that, because he wants to listen to the words to try to imagine a younger Dean singing this. The band is barely through the first chorus when Dean’s breath ghosts along his ear. “Will you dance with me?”

Castiel turns sharply towards him. “What?”

“Come on, dance with me,” Dean says standing up and holding his hand out. 

Castiel looks around at everybody else still seated. “Nobody else is dancing.”

“Nobody else has you on their last first date,” Dean points out. “Dance with me, Cas.”

There isn’t a person with a pulse that would be able to look at Dean in the face and turn him down, so although he’s not one for dancing, Castiel rolls his eyes, gives Dean his hand, and allows himself to be pulled out of his seat and into Dean’s arms. 

Apparently Dean is going to lead, because one arm slides around his waist at the same time his hand is captured by his side and drawn up between their chests. Feeling self-conscious with the sensation of dozens of pairs of eyes on them, he winds his free hand carefully around Dean’s neck, and Dean smiles nice and wide before he starts to turn them into a slow circle. 

Everything but Dean disappears when they fall into a rhythm, holding eye contact as their goofy smiles turn soft and more genuine. This moment is just for them, and he can’t imagine anything more perfect right until Dean starts to sing again. 

_ "Living without you—living alone,  
_ _ this empty house seems so cold.  
_ _ Wanting to hold you, wanting you near,  
_ _ oh how much I wanted you home. _

_ But now that you’ve come back,_  
_ turned night into day,  
_ _ I need you to stay.” _

Somewhere right around the middle, Dean’s eyes turned from light and playful to somber and honest, and instead of just casually singing the words as they dance, it became more like Dean is singing _ to _ him. Hearing Dean sing these words to him—telling him how lonely he was, how he wanted to be with Castiel all along, and now that they’re together, he wants it to stay that way—has Castiel nodding his head, silently promising that he’s going to stay, that he’s not going anywhere. 

When the chorus kicks in again and the music starts to wind down, he knows the song is almost over, and he’s never wished for time to slow down more than he is right now. But that’s when the hand on his lower back pulls him in, the hand holding his lets go and cups the side of his face instead, and the silent but obvious question in Dean’s eyes has him closing his own and angling his face up.

Thankfully, his instincts were right, and he feels the indescribable sensation of Dean’s pillow-soft lips on his only a split second later. Pure bliss pierces him like an arrow, and his lips part without a thought, inviting Dean’s to fill the spaces between them. The way their mouths move together as one is gentle and slow and heart-achingly sweet, and so is how Dean’s hand slides into his hair the way it always does, and how perfectly their bodies fit against one another’s. Dean presses their lips together for one more flawless moment before he lets up and pulls away, and as Castiel’s eyelids flutter open to see Dean has a face-splitting smile on his face, the world comes back into focus and he realizes people are clapping. The song is over, so he breaks out of Dean’s arms to clap with them, but when he looks towards the stage, he sees that most of the people in the surrounding area are looking _ at them _ and clapping.

His eyes go wide and return straight to Dean, who surprises him by gesturing to Castiel as if he’s the one everybody should be clapping for, and Castiel flushes right to the tips of his ears before he scurries away to go back to his seat. He’s drinking down the rest of the pomegranate margarita to soothe his nerves when he hears the rich sound of Dean’s laughter, and then he gets a smacking kiss to his cheek that only makes him blush harder.

“You couldn’t be cuter if you tried,” Dean says into his ear. And even though he’s so embarrassed he can feel it all the way down to his _ toes, _ it’s mixed so completely with happiness and affection towards Dean, he can’t find a single thing to complain about. 

They stay all the way through the concert, laughing, drinking, and having a good time, and only leave after the band clears the stage. They learn their bill has been taken care of by somebody who enjoyed their little dance, and he’s sure that he’s not the only one feeling like he’s floating on cloud nine when they step out into the night and walk towards the Impala hand-in-hand with Dean.

Dean’s voice singing Journey is filling his head when Dean pulls into the guest parking at his apartment and unbuckles his seat belt. “I’ll walk you up.” He assures Dean he can make the walk back up to his apartment by himself, but Dean insists it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, and since it gives them a few more minutes together, he doesn’t argue. Dean breaks the silence between them a few minutes later as they approach the door to his apartment. “Did you have a good time?”

“Like you really have to ask,” Castiel laughs. “I had a wonderful time. This is without a doubt the best date I’ve ever been on.”

“So my chances of landing a second date are pretty good, then?” Dean asks as they reach his door.

“Couldn’t be better,” Castiel promises. “You can have as many dates as you want.”

“I want ‘em all,” Dean declares.

His breath catches in his throat when Dean steps into his space in a purposeful way. He steps back automatically, feeling heat rush through him when he finds himself flush to the door with Dean gazing down at him hungrily. He knows Dean only has an inch or so on him in height, but he’s somehow looming over him at this moment, and instead of the nerves he worried he might feel when Dean looked at him like this again, it’s arousal that has his reply coming out so breathlessly. “Okay.” 

Dean’s hands land low on his hips, his fingers curling around Castiel’s hip bones gently despite the fire in his eyes, and because Dean looks so terribly unsure, he’s the one who wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and invites him in for another kiss. With so much heat building between them already, he thought their lips might crash together in a desperate clash of tongues and teeth, but Dean surprises him by kissing him just as gently as he did at the restaurant. Just as sweet as it was on the couch a week ago.

Even when Castiel opens his mouth and their tongues meet in the middle, Dean keeps it soft and sensual, leaning in even closer so that his fingers can move around him to stroke lovingly down his spine. He sighs from the sensation, feeling a surge of warmth rush through his insides and start to grow in his chest. Dean kisses him with so much tenderness, so much care, that Castiel feels his body yielding to Dean’s, melting back against the door so Dean can press that much closer to him. 

Dean does, erasing even the idea of space between them, and a quiet moan slips free from his throat when he feels the swell of Dean’s burgeoning erection hot along his hip. Dean breaks the seal of their mouths and trails his lips down Castiel’s jaw, tiny flames licking at his skin everywhere they touch until the fire ignites when Dean finds just the right spot on his neck.

He whimpers, turning his head to the side to give Dean better access, and Dean dives in for three glorious seconds, tearing several embarrassing sounds out of him as he works that spot like a man on a mission until Dean abruptly pulls away. 

Feeling dazed, Castiel blinks owlishly, trying to will his breathing to even out and his brain to think through the fog of arousal. 

“Jesus,” Dean says hoarsely. There’s a tiny smile on his lips when he drops his forehead to Castiel’s. “Kept tellin’ myself all night long that I’d kiss you goodnight just once like a gentleman, but I guess I blew that, huh?”

“Maybe a little,” Castiel teases. Dean huffs out a laugh and backs up enough to press a kiss to his forehead, making his insides turn to jello. “Can I see you again tomorrow?”

Dean smiles fondly and trails his fingers down his jaw. “Yeah, sweetheart.” Dean leans in to kiss him then, smooching him again and again like he’s about to pull away, but Castiel chases his lips for more every time, and Dean never stops him. Over and over, Dean tries to end the kiss and walk away, and Castiel keeps dragging it out, feeling provocative and powerful in a way he’s never experienced before when he realizes Dean finds him so irresistible. The thought has him pushing his tongue back into Dean’s mouth, and Dean dives in with a groan, steering him back against the door where their groins brush together for the first time.

Castiel inhales sharply through his nose, but like a man burned, Dean pulls away entirely. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Dean says quickly. He stands in the middle of the hallway and wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “You—” Dean points a teasing, accusatory finger at him, then runs his hand down his face like he’s trying to put himself back together. “You are gonna be the death of me, you little minx.”

It’s hard to keep a straight face, but he still tries to explain, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I was on board. I like kissing you.”

“Believe me, I’m getting that,” Dean laughs. Then he stops to rake his eyes up and down Castiel, and while he has no idea what Dean sees when he looks at him, he knows whatever it is is responsible for the quiet little whine Dean makes in his throat. Dean forces his gaze away and actually curls his hands into fists before he shoves them into his jeans pockets. “I don’t trust us not to try for more if I touch you again, and I know we’re not ready for that. So I’m just gonna... go...” Castiel nods, amused by the way Dean seems unable to look him in the face. “I had a great time, Cas. Seriously the best. And you’re way too fucking hot for your own good,” he adds emphatically, surprising a laugh out of Castiel. “Yeah, you laugh, jerk,” Dean says under his breath, but there’s no heat behind it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Dean basically sprints down the hallway after that, and the sight has Castiel’s voice filled with laughter when he calls out, “I had a great time, too. See you tomorrow!”

Dean waves before he steps into the elevator, and then, with his heart full of love and laughter, he unlocks his door and all but floats through the front door, happier now than he’s ever been in his entire life, purely because he knows they’re going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it so far!? Then don’t forget to hug that kudos button!


	12. Chapter 12

Dean can still hardly believe how well things went last night. Sure, there had been a couple of heavy moments, but he expected that going in. He worried it might be awkward or the conversation stilted, or maybe even that he would look at Cas face-to-face for the first time in a week and get pissed off all over again over Cas lying to him, but that only happened once, and it was only for a second. 

When he thinks back on the whole night, the strongest emotion he remembers feeling is relief. Relief that neither one of them screwed things up so badly that they can’t be mended eventually, relief that he could finally understand why he always felt so much when he was with Cas, and when the end of the night came, relief that he could kiss Cas without second guessing himself. 

By the time he finally managed to tear himself away from the softest lips he’s ever kissed and said goodnight to Cas last night, he may have had a case of blue balls he still isn’t totally sure he’ll ever come back from, but more importantly, he was so fucking happy that it only took one night to figure out he and Cas were gonna be okay. 

Things aren’t perfect yet, but after everything they’ve been through, their date had been so much closer to perfect than he ever thought they’d get. And that was just their first date! 

It’s Cas who plans their second date for the next day. It’s finally cooled off enough to be typical May weather in Denton, and so when it turns out Cas’s plans keep them outside for the afternoon, it’s surprisingly nice. Cas downloaded this app called Kwest, and it’s almost like a scavenger hunt through town. They have to follow the directions to find certain places, pieces of art, signs in parks, and stop long enough to take selfies with different backdrops in order to get the next clue. It’s actually really fun, and Cas is freaking adorable when he geeks out over learning so much history about the town he’s lived in for so many years. 

After that, Cas takes him to what looks like an abandoned building which turns out to be a sushi restaurant, and Dean feels like a complete ass when he has to tell Cas he doesn’t like sushi. Cas waves him away and tells him not to worry about it, that they have other options too. Apparently, the owner is Italian (and a regular customer at Cas’s bookstore, which is how he got a reservation last minute), and in a twist he never could have seen coming, Dean winds up having the best lasagna he’s ever eaten. Cas also uses those big blue eyes of his to convince him to try a few bites of his sushi, and Dean reluctantly agrees that some of them aren’t half-bad, and a couple are actually delicious.

Because he has a few hours before he has to drive home, he has two _ sake _ with his meal and was wildly unprepared for how quickly it would go to his head. Cas can’t stop smiling at his over-the-top, flirty behavior once they step out into the night to make a quick stop at Cas’s place for “supplies” for whatever Cas has planned next, so he guesses he can’t complain. It’s only a minute or two before Cas comes back out with his arms full of a blanket and a big fluffy pillow. 

“What’s that for?” Dean asks, taking the pillow to help.

“You’ll see. Come on.”

It’s another twenty minute walk to where they’re going, and although Dean hasn’t walked so much in a single day in years, he’s grateful for the way the fresh air helps to clear his head. When he sees the big screen set up and people spread out all along the lawn of the courthouse, he realizes they’re about to watch a movie outside, and he happily helps Cas lay out the blanket so he can give his aching feet a break.

Knowing they’ll be here for a couple of hours, Dean unties his boots and leaves them on the grass, groaning with relief now that his feet are finally free of them. “I don’t know how you walk everywhere all the time. My feet feel like they’re gonna fall off.”

“Not wearing work boots is probably a good place to start,” Cas says lightly, and Dean pushes him over where he lands on the pillow with a _ whoosh. _ Cas looks so offended that Dean can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes, and he plops down next to him to plant a chaste, care-free kiss right on those pink lips he’s been staring at all day. He pulls away and snuggles against Cas, lying on his side and wiggling closer so that his chin is resting on Cas’s shoulder. 

“You push me over, kiss me, then cuddle me?” Cas asks, sounding amused.

Dean snorts a laugh. “I’m a confusing guy, what can I say?”

Cas doesn’t seem to have any complaints, if the way he gets his arm around Dean is any indication. “Did you have fun today?”

“A lot of fun,” Dean confirms. “Nice that we get to end the night like this, too.”

“You didn’t even ask what was playing.”

“Don’t really care as long as you don’t move,” Dean tells him, because _ god _ does it feel good to be close to Cas again.

Cas seems to contemplate that with a quiet hum, but eventually, he asks, “Can we switch halfway through so you can hold me?”

Maybe the only thing better than being in Cas’s arms is having Cas in his, so he doesn’t hesitate at all before he replies. “Seems fair.” After the previews are over and the movie finally starts, Dean huffs a laugh. “The Lion King?”

“The new one that’s not a cartoon,” Cas confirms. “I haven’t seen it.”

“I haven’t even seen the original in ages, but I loved that movie. I’m so in.”

It isn’t quite as romantic as dancing had been last night, but there’s something undeniably _ nice _ about being with Cas while a mostly lighthearted movie plays on the big screen as the stars pop up in the sky all around them. When Cas shifts around some time later and silently asks Dean to hold him with just the look in his eyes, Dean props himself up on his elbow to lean down and kiss him soft and sweet. Because it’s dark enough that they have some level of privacy, he parts Cas’s lips with his tongue and hums happily when Cas lets him in. Cas tastes sweet like the strawberry dessert they shared at dinner, and so maybe he lingers a little longer than necessary, but the way Cas has turned to putty tells him Cas wants this as much as he does. 

It’s torture to stop when he’d like nothing more than to spend the next forty-five minutes learning every square inch of the inside of Cas’s mouth, but this probably isn’t the place for that, so he reluctantly pulls away and turns over to let Cas get comfortable on that space on his shoulder he’s now convinced was made for Cas. Cas sighs dreamily as he settles against him, and Dean can’t remember a time when it was so easy to be with somebody. Cas’s hand starts off resting on his chest and he smiles when he sees the bee bracelet still tied around his wrist, but as the movie plays, Cas’s hand starts to wander. Cas’s fingers drift up to Dean's collarbone, following the shape from shoulder to chest, then down and over each of his pecs. His touch is soft and tentative, and he’s damn sure Cas isn’t doing anything except for curiously exploring, but the sensation of Cas’s hands on his body has a low buzz of arousal thrumming through his system anyway. He tenses when Cas’s hand slides down to his stomach, but then Cas lets out this low, contented sound as his hand caresses his belly, and while he doesn’t exactly get _ why _ Cas would be pleased by the soft center of his stomach, he also doesn’t think Cas would fake it. Before he even realizes it’s happened, he’s relaxed into Cas’s touch, and with his mind more focused on the movie than how he’s always felt embarrassed by his gut, he finds Cas’s touch intimately reassuring rather than judgmental. 

His insides are warm when Cas tilts his head up and presses an uncertain kiss to his neck. Dean strokes his fingers through Cas’s hair at the back of his head, hoping to let Cas know he’s doing just fine, and he smiles when Cas kisses his skin again. Cas’s hand is still gently caressing his lower stomach, and Cas’s thick fingers are just brushing the strip of bare skin above the waistband of his jeans when Cas’s mouth opens for his next kiss, moving along the column of his throat up to the underside of his chin. Dean’s completely forgotten about the people around them when he angles his chin down and catches Cas’s lips in a passionate kiss, and when Cas’s hand slides around him to his lower back and pulls, Dean rolls himself over top of him to press Cas gently into the grass beneath him. 

Cas moans quietly and though it’s difficult to stop, he pulls away just enough to ask, “This okay?”

“Yes,” Cas answers, pressing their lips back together.

Dean can think of nothing but pulling another moan from Cas, so he redoubles his efforts and does everything in his power to do just that. He does that curl-flick thing with his tongue that always seems to drive Cas wild, and sure enough, he feels Cas’s fingers dig into his lower back, urging him closer still. He sucks on the tip of Cas’s tongue, scrapes his teeth along the full bottom lip that could bring him to his knees with gratitude all on its own, and he gets his wish when Cas moans and presses his lips to his twice as hard.

He remembers Cas saying he’s only okay with soft kissing, so he’s about to pull away to ask if they should stop when a bright light shines into his eyes, and he wrenches away from Cas’s mouth with a wet _ pop. _

“This is a family thing. Try and keep it in your pants,” somebody tells them.

Although he struggles to keep a straight face, he says, “Right. Sorry.” He hears Cas snicker and valiantly continues, “Got a little carried away.”

Once the light is out of his eyes, he looks down at Cas, which is when the snicker Cas failed at holding in comes out in a loud burst of laughter, and several people all around them shush them all at the same time. Cas throws a hand over his mouth, but that barely stops the sound of his laughter escaping, and now Dean’s fully laughing along with him. 

“You’re gonna get us kicked outta outdoor movie night, you trouble maker.” He really couldn’t care less about that though, because honestly, if making out with Cas on a blanket on the lawn of the court house makes Cas _ this _ happy, he is more than willing to get himself kicked out over it. 

Thankfully, the movie is almost finished, and although Cas still doesn’t keep his damn hands to himself, they manage to make it all the way through the movie without getting a light shined in their eyes again. They walk back to Cas’s place hand-in-hand, and he can only hope that Cas feels as light and happy as he does by the time they reach Cas’s apartment building.

He stops in the parking lot once they get to his car, and tells Cas, “Probably not a good idea for me to walk you to your door tonight after we got all worked up from all that kissing.”

Cas’s face falls slightly, but he nods like he understands. “You’re probably right. We tend to get carried away.”

Dean leans back against his car, and uses Cas’s hand to tug him in nice and close. Cas steps into the space between Dean’s legs and wraps his arms around his neck, leaving Dean’s hands free to fall onto the mouth-watering hip bones he definitely hasn’t forgotten about. “I had fun with you today.”

Cas smiles softly. “I had fun, too. I’m glad we got to spend the day together.”

He wants to spend just as much time with Cas tomorrow as he did today, but he’s still mindful that the two of them are trying to take things slow. “When can I see you again?”

Cas smiles so big it’s like he asked him if he wants a million dollars. “I have groceries to do tomorrow.”

“Yeah, same.” Then it occurs to him that since Cas doesn’t have a car, he either walks or Lyfts to the grocery store and carries everything home by himself, and while he knows Cas has managed alone all this time, he wants to help him. “Wanna go together? I can pick you up.”

Cas seems to think about that, and he can see the refusal in his eyes before he tilts his head to the side like he’s reconsidering. “Let me buy you lunch to thank you, and then we’ll go together.”

Remembering how expensive dinner was, Dean shakes his head. “Dude, you already dropped a buttload of cash tonight.”

“I never spend money frivolously, it was a treat for me. Please let me buy you lunch.”

Dean sighs, but says, “Is that the only way I get to see you?”

“What if I say yes?”

“Then I guess I say yes, too.”

“I would’ve seen you either way, but I’ll still take your yes,” Cas laughs.

Cas’s wide smile might as well be contagious for how quickly Dean catches it. To keep up the ruse, he shakes his head fondly. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I am—” Cas pauses and sighs happily, leaning forward until their bodies are pressed together chest-to-chest. Cas is looking at him with so much affection in his gaze it’s enough to make him puff his chest out proudly. “—so incredibly happy. _ You _ make me so happy, Dean.”

Hearing Cas say that, knowing for sure that he _ is _ making Cas the kind of happy he deserves makes Dean’s own happiness quadruple. What else could he possibly do at that moment other than bring their lips together? His hands leave Cas’s hips just so he can cradle his face and stroke his cheek bones, wanting every damn thing about _ this _kiss to show Cas how happy he is, too. How being with Cas is the easiest, most natural thing in the world, and that he wouldn’t change a single thing about him even if he could. 

He knows they’ve only been on two dates but he already can’t believe how fast he’s falling for Cas.

When he feels heat beginning to creep in along with the tenderness, he pulls away so they don’t end up on top of each other in the back seat. He’s breathless already, not so much from the kiss specifically, but from everything Cas can make him feel _ with _ a kiss. 

“I’m crazy about you,” Dean breathes. “You know that?”

If it’s possible, Cas smiles even bigger. “I was hoping the feeling was mutual.”

“So fucking mutual, you wouldn’t believe it,” he promises. Dean leans in to peck him on the lips again, making an unhappy whine in his throat when he thinks about saying goodbye again tonight. “I don’t wanna let you go,” he admits, kissing him again. “Every damn time. Being with you is so good, Cas. So perfect.” Again, but this time Cas follows his lips, sealing them together for a longer, firmer kiss that he feels all the way down to his toes. “God, Cas, I can’t believe you’re mine.”

Cas stiffens in his arms, and his mouth is already open to apologize when Cas shakes his head, shushing him. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it possessively.”

“I didn’t,” he promises, his stomach souring with the idea that he just fucked things up again. “Just meant that outta everybody, I can’t believe I get to have _ you _ as my soulmate.” He strokes down the side of his face, smiling when he feels Cas relax a little bit more with every one. “I still should’ve been more careful because I know you don’t like that.”

“I promise it’s okay,” Cas says gently. “You can call me yours as many times as you want when you say it all soft like that. It might even help to drown out the other way I still hear it in my head sometimes.”

Self-hatred burns his insides like acid. “I’m so sorry, Cas. I’ll say it like that a million times if it’ll help. I’ll say it over and over until you never hear anything but good, happy things in your head like you deserve,” Dean offers.

Cas smiles, all soft and adorable. “I know you would. Just being with you helps, too.”

“Well how ‘bout we just stay out here all night, then? Just like this.”

“In your arms all night?” Cas asks. “That sounds wonderful.”

And as if they really could, Cas drops his head onto Dean’s shoulder and snuggles in, and the soft little sound he makes when he finds just the right spot burrows straight into his heart and carves out its own little spot there. As stupid as it is, he knows he’ll do his best to stand here all frigging night if that’s what Cas really wants, his sore feet be damned. He drops his chin to press a kiss to the top of Cas’s head and breathes in the sweet scent of his shampoo, feeling safe and right and like nothing in the world could be better than this, hoping with everything he has that Cas feels the same way about him.

He hates to admit it, but Sammy was right. He had no idea how perfect it would feel to be with the one person he’s meant to be with. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before, and he doesn’t really know Cas that well yet. He can hardly even imagine how amazing it will be when they know each other as well as Sam and Jess do, and right now, in this moment, he’s so fucking glad he listened to his brother and gave their relationship another shot. 

“Dean?” Cas asks suddenly.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I forgive you,” Cas tells him, and he’s pretty sure his heart stops. “For what happened the day you found out I was lying to you. I forgive you for what you said, and I want you to know that I trust that you will never do anything to hurt me on purpose again.”

“Oh, Cas.” Dean feels relief rush through him so fast it takes his breath away, and he squeezes Cas while he plants another half dozen kisses to the top of his head. “Thank you. I swear you’re not gonna regret it. I’m gonna treat you so good, sweetheart. I swear. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Cas pulls away a little while later, and after another soft kiss that makes his heart flutter, he watches Cas walk into his apartment building, ignoring the instinct that’s screaming at him to follow Cas and beg him to sleep by his side where he belongs. 

Falling asleep later that night in a bed much too big for one has never felt so lonely.

* * *

They see each other every day after that.

Groceries and lunch somehow turns into an hours-long event that takes up most of the day. They go out for ice cream Monday night after dinner and play frisbee in the park on Tuesday night until it gets too dark for them to see. Even then, they sit on a park bench and look at the stars, not wanting to separate a minute sooner than they have to. Every night, he wonders if tonight is going to be the night Cas asks him inside to drag it out even more, but every night, Cas kisses him stupid and then walks into his apartment alone.

He hasn’t brought it up because he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s pushing for alone time, but at the same time, it’s hard not to notice that Cas hasn’t let him inside his apartment since he kicked him out. It breaks his heart to even consider any of the different reasons Cas might have for that, so he just waits him out. It’s not even that he’s considering making a move or anything like that, it would just be nice to be with his soulmate in a room alone where nobody else was looking at them for once.

Thankfully, that’s not the only thing on his mind. In fact, it’s not even what takes up half of his brain these days—or today, more specifically. Because today is the day he’s going to post his first video on YouTube. It’s already uploaded and in private mode, so according to Charlie, all he has to do is hit the button to make it public, but he knows he’ll never have the balls to do it on his own. 

So tonight, he and Cas are going over to Sam and Jess’s so he can cook everybody his homemade burgers, and more importantly, get some good old-fashioned positive peer pressure. It’s a testament to how far gone he is on Cas already that he feels the majority of his nerves disappear as soon as he has Cas in the passenger seat of his car, and considering Sam and Jess’s place feels a lot more like home than his shitty apartment, he’s doing surprisingly well when he walks in. 

He’s feeling even better by the time Sam, Jess, and Cas all sit in the kitchen and start gabbing away about every damn thing like they’re lifelong friends while he starts prepping his burger patties. He always figured his soulmate would get along well with his brother, and since Jess is part of that package now, too, he’s glad the three of them are so chummy. Hell, up until this week, Sam and Jess spent more time with Cas than he did, but he hopes that keeps changing in his favor.

It’s crazy to think that it was only a week and a half ago when he sat on the couch next to Cas with Sam and Jess feeling like he was the odd man out, when tonight, even though he isn’t as engrossed in the conversation as the rest of them, he feels like he belongs as much as anybody. 

That’s only solidified when he feels familiar hands loop around his stomach and a subtle scrape of facial hair along the side of his face. Cas’s voice is low and his breath is hot on his ear when he says, “You got quiet.”

“Was just thinkin’,” Dean tells him.

“Something you want to share with the class?”

“Nah,” Dean decides. “Just sappy shit.”

“But I love sappy shit when it comes from you,” Cas pouts.

He turns in Cas’s arms, carefully keeping his meat-covered hands to himself, but swooping in to catch his lips in a long, closed-mouth kiss. When they break apart and Cas is gazing up at him like he hung the moon, he admits, “I just like how you fit. How it feels to have you here with Sam and Jess.”

Cas’s eyes turn soft, the way they always do for him now, and he’s about to kiss him again when he hears what can only be described as a squeak from the kitchen table. Both curious and mildly concerned, he peeks around Cas to see Jess sitting there staring at them with her hands over her mouth.

“You good?” he wonders. She nods her head vigorously, but her eyes are still freaky-wide, and she still hasn’t moved her hands. Sam is shaking his head and looking at the table like he’s too ashamed to even look in her direction, so feeling less concerned now, Dean adds a sarcastic tone to his voice. “Are you dying?”

She finally drops her hands and _ yells, _“YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE!”

Mortified to his very core, he feels heat rush to his cheeks and turns away from Cas to get back to his burgers. But the next thing he hears is Cas’s quiet laughter, and he guesses if Cas doesn’t care, he can probably pretend that never happened.

Except, apparently, Jess isn’t done.

“I’m sorry Castiel, I know you’re technically still my boss, but I told Sam all along that Dean was secretly a big teddy bear inside and I was right, right?” Jess asks. He has no idea what Cas does, but he must confirm that in some way, because Jess squeals _ again. _ “Ha! Sam, I knew it! I fucking told you! I told you, didn’t I?”

“You know I hate when you say that,” Sam complains. Dean grins despite himself, because he’s pretty sure Sam hates that because of how obnoxious he’s always been whenever he’s right.

Cas is on the same page, because he asks, “Are you sure you and Jess aren’t soulmates?”

Jess says, “He wishes.”

At the exact same time Dean says, “Only in her dreams.”

And the four of them burst out laughing.

Dean finishes the last patty he was working on, and he washes his hands while Sam and Jess bicker lightly about Jess’s comment. With his hands now free, he asks the room at large, “Cook first or video first?”

He gets a resounding chorus of, “Video!” from all three of them, so with his heart in his throat already, he digs his phone out of his pocket and takes a seat at the table. Cas steps behind him, rubbing his shoulders reassuringly within seconds, and he tries to concentrate on not freaking out while he brings up YouTube on his phone.

“On a scale of 1-10, how nervous are you right now?” Sam asks him.

“Eleven.”

“But the hard part’s already done!” Jess says.

“She’s right,” Cas agrees. “You already gave the performance of a lifetime. It’s as polished as it can possibly be, and I promise you, you look and sound absolutely amazing.”

“And you’re not biased at all,” Dean deadpans.

“Of course I am, but at the same time, nobody’s heard you play more than me,” Cas argues. “I know what it sounds like when you don’t have a good song and when you don’t hit the notes the first try. That didn’t happen when you sang this to me.”

“Plus, you have that song to thank for your first kiss with your soulmate, _ and _you got it on video,” Jess adds. “It’s so romantic. Everybody’s gonna love it.”

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Sam asks.

“People could watch it and hate it,” Dean answers. Then he changes his mind. “No. People could watch it and have no reaction at all. They could just click onto another one of the twenty-five million videos on YouTube and never give me another thought.”

Cas actually laughs a little, and Dean tilts his head back to shoot him a look of death. 

“What? It’s funny because that’s _ never _ going to happen! You have the _ least _ forgettable face of anybody I’ve ever seen. Add in your voice and how you look with a guitar in your hands, and I’m telling you, people are going to have their noses pressed to their screens trying to get a closer look.”

“You’re just sayin’ that because—”

“Embroidery, Dean,” Cas interrupts him. “Embroidery.”

He huffs out a laugh when Jess and Sam both snicker at the memory, and thanks to the reminder from Cas, he knows Cas _ isn’t _ just saying that because they’re soulmates. Cas made an ass of himself over Dean long before he knew that. 

“You know this isn’t your one and only shot, right?” Sam asks him. “I think people are going to like this song, and I think you and Cas are gonna go viral with that kiss. But _ if _ it doesn’t happen, that doesn’t mean you’re done. You’ve got how many amazing songs ready to go after this one?”

“A few,” Dean admits begrudgingly. 

“At least three full songs I’d bet my store on,” Cas says for him. 

“Sam’s right,” Jess adds. “You’ve always got the pie song to fall back on if you need it.”

Cas leans down so that he can whisper into his ear. “You’re not going to need it. I believe in you.” He gets a smacking kiss to his cheek after that, and although he’s embarrassed enough that he blushes, it does give him that last little boost he needs. He nods his head, takes a deep breath, and sends one final, silent plea into the universe to _ please _ just let him fucking have this.

And then he clicks the button to post his video publicly.

And promptly feels like he’s going to barf. 

Enough that he pushes his chair back without thinking, only narrowly missing bowling Cas over behind him, and makes a bee-line for the bathroom. He doesn’t quite make it inside before Cas grabs him by the elbow, gets one hand on his face, and forces eye contact. Whatever Cas sees clearly helps him decide Dean isn’t going to puke on him, because the next thing he knows, he’s pulled into an almost bone-crunching, hard hug. 

“You’re okay,” Cas says quietly. “You did it, Dean. You put yourself out there, and I am so _ unbelievably _ proud of you.” Somehow, Cas hugs him even tighter after that, and for the first time he can remember, instead of giving into the nerves still making his stomach churn, he gives into another person. 

Into Cas. 

He wraps his arms around him, clinging to Cas for everything he’s worth, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that Cas has him. That Cas will always have him, not only because Cas is meant to be his other half, but because of who Cas is. One of the most loving, understanding, supportive people he’s ever met, who he knows he can lean on now and forever.

“I’ve got you,” Cas whispers.

Because it’s overwhelming to realize he believes Cas absolutely, he nods against Cas’s shoulder and buries his face in Cas’s shoulder. He feels Cas’s fingers stroking down the nape of his neck and lets the familiarity of Cas’s body slotted against his soothe his frayed nerves. 

It isn’t until he’s breathing easier and his stomach has settled that he finally feels like he can say something coherent back. 

“I couldn’t’ve done this without you.”

Cas takes a step back to make eye contact while his hand slides from Dean’s neck to the side of his face. “Of course you could have,” Cas disagrees. “But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

“If you weren’t here—weren’t _ you— _I’d be hugging the toilet bowl right now.” Cas cocks his head to the side, so adorably disbelieving that it encourages him to say a little bit more. “If you weren’t you being such a dumbass before when you were lying and pushing yourself to figure out a way for me to get here, I dunno if it ever would’ve happened.”

Cas chews his bottom lip for a handful of seconds, like he’s trying to decide what to say. “I still should have told you sooner.” His thumb brushes from Dean’s cheekbone to beneath his ear. “I hate that I’ve lied to you. It—it haunts me, Dean.”

Dean’s heart constricts almost painfully at the reminder before he can stop it, but he doesn’t want to focus on that right now. He doesn’t want to be mad about it anymore. Not when he knows that as stupid as Cas was, Cas _ did _have his best interest at heart. While he can’t come right out and say he forgives Cas the way Cas has forgiven him so soon, he can say, “I don’t know, man. Maybe this was how it was always supposed to be.”

“Dean,” Cas says softly, clearly picking up on the meaning behind the words he’s not quite saying. 

“I get why you didn’t tell me,” Dean tells him. “And I’m not mad at you anymore, okay?” Cas leans in and presses a firm but quick kiss to his lips, which has him smiling through the rest. “I can’t say I forgive you 100% yet ‘cause there’s still just... a little twinge inside when I think about it, you know? But maybe... maybe you wouldn’t have tried so hard if we were together all along, who knows.” Not wanting to focus too much on that when this should be a night to celebrate, he grins seductively, and adds, “Maybe I would’ve kept you too busy to think about my music.”

“Busy?” Cas echoes. “Busy doing what?” Cas’s eyes go all wide and innocent, and even though he knows Cas is faking his reaction, he’s already backing him against the wall for a demonstration. 

He nudges Cas’s chin up and seals his mouth to the bolt of his jaw, licking and sucking on every hot spot he knows damn well Cas has by now. He uses his hips to spread Cas’s legs, then bends his knees and grinds up until their groins are slotted together. “Learning every inch of you.” 

Cas turns his head and Dean pulls away to check his expression to make sure Cas is good with this, which is when he finds himself reeled right back in by Cas’s hand on the front of his shirt. Their lips crash together in the first hungry, heated kiss they’ve shared since Cas kicked him out of his apartment. Cas kisses him without restraint, without any kind of hesitancy at all, and knowing that’s comfortable with this has happiness spreading through him almost as quickly as desire. After all of the careful kisses they’ve shared this week, Cas knows exactly how Dean likes it and just what to do, and Cas uses that knowledge to have him going from zero to sixty in seconds.

“You’re doing a hell of a job of distracting me,” Dean whispers when they stop long enough for a breath.

Cas’s eyes are dark with desire, and he nods frantically before smashing their lips back together. He wants so much more than he can have right now in the shadows of the hallway, but he settles for pushing up Cas’s shirt to feel his skin beneath his hands. He follows the dip of Cas’s lower back up along his spine, over his lightly muscled back and back down again. When Cas lets out a quiet litany of encouraging sounds, he lets his hands drop a little further than he usually would, over the back of Cas’s jeans to play with the pockets on his backside. He breaks the seal of their lips just enough to whisper against his mouth, “Can I, sweetheart?”

“Anything,” is Cas’s breathless reply, and he’s already groaning before he slides his fingers the rest of the way down and gets two handfuls of two perfectly firm ass cheeks. “O-oh _ god. _ G-god, Dean. That feels _ so _ good.” 

Cas’s response spurs him on to rub and squeeze Cas’s ass with reckless abandon, using his hands to pull Cas more firmly against his now fully hard cock. Cas’s head thuds back against the wall and Dean takes advantage of the long column of his neck, breathing hard as he seeks out the wild thumping of Cas’s pulse under his skin.

“Fffuck,” Cas whispers hoarsely, grappling uselessly at his back and rolling his mouth watering hips to fully ride against Dean’s crotch. 

“You’re so damn hot,” Dean tells him. “Want you so bad, Cas.”

“Hey, what was—?”

Jess’s voice is like a slap to the face, but his brain still doesn’t get the message to get his hands off of Cas’s perfectly round ass in time to save any of them the embarrassment of getting caught. “Oh!” she says, looking startled to see them wrapped together so closely. She badly stifles a laugh and looks pointedly at the ceiling. “I heard a bang, but I’m guessing that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

“My head does kind of hurt now that I can breathe,” Cas admits, and Jess snorts outright with laughter this time. 

“Got a little carried away,” Dean tries to explain to her.

“Well, come cook, eat, and _ then _ get carried away back at your place. Some of us are getting hungry. And you have some hits on your video already.”

“What? I do? How many?” Dean asks.

“As soon as you let go of my boss’s ass, I’ll let you know,” Jess says, smirking as she turns and walks away.

“Well, what’ll it be?” Cas asks teasingly. “More groping in the shadows, or checking your video?”

He answers Cas by capturing his lips in another passionate kiss and giving his ass a firm squeeze that has a low, throaty moan vibrating against Dean’s mouth. “You,” Dean says between kisses. “Always gonna choose you, Cas.”

Cas parts his lips with his tongue, and Dean coaxes him in the rest of the way with a quiet sound of pleasure of his own that Cas chases like a moth to a flame. He’s sure he’s kissed Cas more since their first date than he’s kissed everybody else in his life _ combined, _ and he still can’t get enough of it. It only gets better when he realizes that because he’ll get to kiss Cas every day forever, that means Cas is never going to kiss anybody else but him. He shoves his tongue even further into Cas’s mouth, asserting his dominance and humming with pleasure when Cas goes boneless and takes it so beautifully. 

He jerks back suddenly when a cold, wet splash hits the side of his face, and he whips his head to the side to see Jess standing there with a _ huge _ smile and a water gun. He opens his mouth to complain, but that’s when he sees another jet of water come his way, and he manages to turn away just in time to get an ear full of water.

“Ugh, gross!”

Jess _ cackles. _ “Kiss him again Cas, I wanna see if I can get the other ear.”

“If I didn’t have a raging boner you’d be on your ass with a face full of water right now,” Dean threatens.

A bark of laughter escapes Cas but Jess looks at him like a skunk just walked in front of her. “Are you 12!? Don’t get boners in the hallway! And don’t ever tell me you have one again, either, _ god.” _

Her interruption and her distaste for the subject matter is actually helping him to go down to half-mast, so he bugs her again. “Stiffy work better for your delicate sensibilities?”

“Sam!” Jess calls, sounding every bit like the stereotypical tattle-tale. “Dean’s talking to me about his dick!”

From wherever Sam is in the house, he can _ just _ hear a muffled, “What? Why?”

He turns to share a laugh with Cas, which is what gets him another squirt of water to the face. And this time, _ Cas _ fails spectacularly at holding in his laugh. He gives him a gentle shove back as he steps out of his arms, his lips twitching. “You dirty traitor.”

“Your face was funny!” Cas tries to explain, failing to hold in another laugh.

Dean takes two steps towards Jess, thinking Cas could use a shot or two to the face to even things out. “Shoot Cas a few times and we’re square,” he bargains.

“Hey!” Cas butts in, sounding indignant that Dean would try to turn this around on him. “What happened to always choosing me?”

“Don’t worry, I’m still gonna choose you when you’ve got water comin’ outta your ears like a fountain.” As he gets within arms reach of Jess, he puts his hand out, palm up. “You can always let me do it. You know you wanna see him looking like a drowned rat.”

They both turn to Cas, seeing him standing there with his arms crossed and a pout so cute on those pink lips of his that Dean nearly groans at the sight of it, and his resolve breaks half a second before Jess says, “You’re not five years old. No water gun fights in the house.”

Dean and Cas come to a mutual understanding from one shared glance before they dart towards her, and while he totally expected Jess to put up a hell of a fight, he didn’t expect the_ volume _ of Jess’s shrieks while she tries to get away. Dean gets her around the waist in just a few seconds, getting a few blasts to the face in the process, and Cas manages to grab the water gun _ and _ her legs before she can sack either of them. They’re _ just _ about to get her out the back door where Dean has plans to soak her with the hose before Sam steps in front of them.

“Get the door for me, Sammy?” he tries.

To Sam’s credit, he at least _ looks _ like he’s thinking about helping them, right until Jess threatens, “I will kill you in your sleep, Sam Winchester!”

She sounds pretty scary, so he can’t really blame Sam for turning on them. “Gimme the gun, Cas.”

“No,” Cas says firmly. 

Sam raises his eyebrows, letting Dean know he’s not the only one surprised by his no-nonsense reply, but then a smirk appears on Sam’s face that he knows is trouble for Cas. Sure enough, Sam says, “Hey Dean, did you know that Cas is like, freakishly ticklish—”

“OKAY!” Cas shouts, dropping Jess’s legs and handing over the gun.

He wasn’t expecting Cas to let go so quickly, so he kind of drops Jess where she falls on her knees. _ Hard. _ He’s wincing in solidarity, an apology already on his lips when he gets a swift elbow to the groin. Thank fuck she misses her mark, but it’s close enough that he doubles over anyway, a high-pitched stream of air escaping him as his life flashes before his eyes.

“Dean!” Cas exclaims, rushing forward to place a hand on his back. “Are you okay?”

“Almost died,” he wheezes, allowing Cas’s strong hands to help straighten him up. 

“You’re lucky I missed!” Jess says as she pulls herself up off of the floor. 

Dean sends her a scowl, but that’s when Cas steps into his space and whispers in his ear. “Want me to rub it better?”

And just like that, Cas has his full attention _ and _ his dick miraculously twitching back to life. Dean inhales sharply, and Cas pulls back with a satisfied smile on his face, like Cas knew _ exactly _ what saying something like that would do to him. “Hey now, don’t go makin’ promises you can’t keep,” he teases.

Cas’s smile only grows, but that’s when Jess inserts herself into their conversation again. “If you don’t start grilling in the next thirty seconds, _ I’m _ grilling your burgers myself.”

“Alright,” Dean growls, reluctantly shifting away from Cas. “I’ll go clean the grill and heat it up, somebody bring me the meat.”

“Sounds like a job for Castiel,” Sam quips, and Cas surprises the shit out of him by reaching for the fly of his pants like he’s about to whip his dick out. Dean laughs, but he also wonders what the hell is up with Cas today? 

“The _ burgers,” _ Jess rephrases, looking reluctantly amused. 

“Whoops,” Cas says. “That could’ve been embarrassing.”

Dean’s still shaking his head fondly when he steps out onto the back deck. “He’s in a mood tonight,” Sam comments, apparently right on his heels. 

“Was just thinkin’ the same thing.”

“You’ve been a bad influence on him.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Didn’t take long. I’m kinda proud.”

“For real, though,” Sam says, his voice softening now. “You guys seem happy. I’ve never seen either of you like this.”

“Isn’t that what you told me it’d be like?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah, but it’s different _ seeing _ it, to see you actually let somebody in again. I’m happy for you.”

What Sam says actually means a lot to him, a lot more than he wants to let on, so he shoots him a tumultuous smile and his signature catch phrase. “No chick flick moments.”

Sam just gets out a disbelieving, “Pfft,” before Cas comes out with the patties. Cas places them on the tray on the side of the grill, brushes a hand down his back, and takes a seat at the table. “I was just telling Dean how nice it is to see you guys together. I’ve only ever seen you look this sure of yourself when you’re behind the counter at work.”

“Thank you for saying that, I think,” Cas says, laughing a little. “I feel really good. Lighter. Happier. And yeah, I guess I do feel more sure of myself. Dean’s helped with that a lot.”

“I have?” Dean questions. 

“Duh,” Cas says.

Sam chuckles. “You don’t hear a lot of _ duh _ these days.”

That makes them both laugh, but still, Cas finishes his thought. “Of course I feel more sure of myself now. Dean wanting to be with me, being proud to be with me, being happy because he’s with me... all of it makes me feel more confident in myself than ever before.”

He’s too much of a chicken shit to attempt to say anything, but he does check out Sam’s expression from the corner of his eye and sees the edges of his lips turned up. “You mean this guy?” he asks skeptically. Then, more seriously, “He’s my brother so I’m supposed to give him a hard time, but I get it. He’s a good guy when you get past all his bull crap.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Dean asks.

“While Sam does that, how about I read you some of the comments on your video?” Cas asks.

“There’s comments?” The nausea returns with a vengeance, but before he can work himself into a full-blown panic, Cas starts talking.

“There’s three, and they’re all positive.”

_ Thank christ. _But... “Three?” That’s not very many.

“It’s been up for less than a half an hour, Dean,” Sam reminds him. “You’re basically a nobody on YouTube.”

He nods once and lets that sink in. Three comments in a half hour from people he doesn’t even know is better than nothing. It’s a hell of a lot more people than those that have said nice things after any of his attempts at The Roadhouse over the last couple of years. 

“Hannahruth990 says, ‘Holy wow, can this guy sing! Also - this was cute AF!’ What does AF mean on the internet?” Cas asks, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“As fuck,” Dean answers, smiling from both the nice comment and from Cas being adorable. “I can see what she meant.”

“Oh, so clever,” Cas says sarcastically, but he’s fighting back a small smile that tells Dean he’s pleased. “thedoorgal wrote in all caps, ‘OMFG THIS IS THE SOFTEST SHIT I HAVE EVER SEEN.’ There are one, two... _ six _ crying emojis, and then it goes on to say, ‘Please tell me you two are soulmates living happily ever after???’ This person didn’t even mention the music,” Cas points out, sounding dejected.

“Still,” Dean says with a shrug. “A positive reaction is better than nothing.”

“What’s the last one say?” Sam asks.

“xkristinxx commented, ‘I have officially melted into a puddle of goo. This is EVERYTHING!’”

Cas looks up, his blue eyes filled with guilt, and Dean waves him off. “Cas, seriously,” he begins. “I’m good with turning people into goo.”

“They’re probably talking about the video as a whole, anyway,” Sam remarks. “Without the song, the kiss at the end wouldn’t have been so impactful. It’s the whole thing together that makes it so... gooey.”

“Hey, I’m just happy nobody told me I sound like a wounded animal yet. People can be _ dicks _ on the internet.” With the grill heated up enough now, he starts cooking the burgers, feeling lighter than he has in as long as he can remember. He keeps his eye on Jess when she comes out to join them, knowing that there’s no way she considers them even for him and Cas ganging up on her earlier (even though she started it!), but when there’s a fourth comment by the time Cas finishes reading her the first three, he’s sure he’s smiling so big he’s going to split his face in half.

“lisafrankenstn says, also in all caps, ‘LOOK AT THEM! Look at how they LOOK at each other!!! I am definitely not crying in public, nope haha.’ And there’s an upside down smiley face, and then, “Brb, going to share this with everybody I know! SO GOOD!’” Cas smiles up at him. “Another few thousand viewers like her, and all your dreams will come true.”

Because Sam and Jess are there, he doesn’t say that he knows he only has a shot at his dreams coming true in the first place because of Cas coming up with this idea. He doesn’t say that a really big part of him already feels like all of his dreams _ have _ come true now that things between them are getting so unbelievably good. And he definitely doesn’t say that for the first time in his life, he feels like he could be perfectly happy without ever selling a song as long as he has his soulmate—as long as he has Cas.

But he thinks it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank yous to my friends who let me pick their brains for comments and for letting me use their Twitter handles in this story <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cough* 🔥🔥🔥 *cough*

Thursday night is spent at the Alamo movie theater, which Castiel is pleasantly surprised to find has recliner seats. What started out as a genuine attempt to watch the movie somehow winds up with the two of them kissing, making out, and groping for over an hour, and while he has absolutely no idea how The Gentlemen ends, he learns that Dean was right when it comes to the advantages of sitting in the back of the movie theater. 

He’s flushed and incredibly turned on by the time they get back in Dean’s car, so he isn’t exactly shocked when their goodnight kiss turns into him pulling Dean against him until Dean gives in and presses him into the inside of the car door where Dean kisses him to within an inch of his life. He shifts and gets one leg up on the bench seat, urging Dean in to fill the space between his spread legs and feeling his arousal spike so suddenly at the first point of contact against his aching erection that he can hardly breathe.

The breath he’d been holding comes out in a high-pitched keening noise when Dean rolls his hips against him, and he drags his hands down to Dean’s jean-clad ass, encouraging him to grind harder, faster. Things devolve quickly from there, their kissing quickly turning into nothing more than panting into each other’s mouths as they rut against one another, and the sudden knowledge that he’s only a few short minutes away from coming in his pants is what gives him the clarity to push Dean back by his shoulders. 

To Dean’s credit, he doesn’t complain or resist him at all, he just quietly backs away to sit up, looking out the opposite window while Castiel tries to get himself back in order. His shirt’s rucked up, his jeans are bunched awkwardly around his throbbing cock, and his lips are swollen and chapped from so much kissing. 

He watches with interest as Dean lifts his hips and pulls at the legs of his jeans (pulling them down so they’re not so tight on his crotch, he assumes) and he knows all of this getting worked up and stopping has to be as painful and frustrating for Dean as it is for him—maybe even more so since Dean’s not the one who keeps asking to stop. 

He’s so turned on that his voice sounds like he swallowed glass when he finally breaks the silence between them. “Sorry.”

Dean shakes his head. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

“I’m sorry I keep asking you to stop.”

Dean turns to look at him now, and there’s so much kindness and understanding in his eyes that he feels himself fall even more in love with this exceedingly gentle man. “You don’t gotta be sorry for that, Cas. We’ve got time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Knowing Dean just provided him with the perfect opportunity for where he wants to lead this conversation, he fiddles with the charm on his bracelet while he takes a moment to gather his courage. “Do you have plans this weekend?”

“Was hoping I’d get to spend most of it with you.”

Feeling his heart fill all over again, he replies, “You’re not tired of me yet?”

“Pretty sure that’s not a thing when it comes to you,” Dean tells him.

Because he feels the same way, and because Dean has been so respectful, patient, and understanding of how Castiel wants to take things slow but still finds himself incapable of keeping his hands to himself, he goes ahead and voices what he’s been thinking about all night. 

“How would you feel about spending the night tomorrow?”

There’s a single beat of silence before Dean says, “Enthusiastic.”

Castiel lets out what can only be described as a giggle as he runs his hand through his disheveled hair. “Will you bring your guitar?”

“Pretty sure I’d bring a gorilla costume and hang from the balcony if you asked me to.”

Castiel laughs outright, and Dean joins in a second later, easing some of the still-loaded sexual tension in the air between them. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

Dean replies without hesitation. “You’re worth waiting for.”

_ I love you. _

He doesn’t say it, but that’s the first time the words materialize in his head without a conscious thought on his end, and it makes him breathless all over again. He’s fallen in love with Dean. He’s fallen in love for the first time in his life, and when he thought he knew how wonderful and amazing this day might feel, he really had no idea. He feels like his heart is too big for his chest, that he is fundamentally changed in such an obvious way that everybody in Denton should be able to take one look at him and _ know _ that he has irreversibly and unequivocally gone and fallen in love with Dean Winchester. 

Maybe it’s because of all that spinning around in his head that makes him ineloquent (at best) when he brings up what’s been on his mind all this week. “I know I said all along that I was waiting for my soulmate, but I’m not ready to have sex with you yet.”

Nerves are like butterflies hyped up on Red Bull in his stomach the moment the words leave his mouth, but thankfully, Dean’s expression doesn’t change in the slightest. “Cas, seriously—”

“But.” His nerves disappear and his smile returns when Dean shuts up immediately after that one word, very clearly listening eagerly. “I think I’m ready to replace the memory of what happened the last time we were in my bed with something... happier.”

He watches closely when Dean’s eyes flash with arousal and Dean’s tongue darts out to wet the lips his have been sealed to for the majority of the night. Even still, he says, “We don’t gotta do that for me to stay over. It can be like the second time we slept together, where we just sleep in each other's arms or whatever.”

He’s sure Dean doesn’t mean it to, but it almost feels like a kind rejection, but a rejection all the same. “Do you not... want to?”

“That’s a joke, right?” Dean asks, disbelief written all over his face. “Of course I want to. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to if we hang out in private.”

“I don’t,” Castiel assures him. “I’ve never felt like that with you.”

“You haven’t let me in your apartment since you kicked me out last time,” Dean points out. “You must feel something like that.”

“No,” Castiel disagrees, his heart squeezing painfully when he realizes that’s what Dean thought all this time. “It was never that I felt pressured or uncomfortable with you, Dean. I’m sorry I made you think that. That was just the agreement we made at first, remember? Dating and spending time together in a public setting so we could keep it casual.”

The relief in Dean’s eyes makes him want to cry. He never meant for Dean to feel like he didn’t trust him. “There ain’t a single part of me that feels like this is casual, Cas.”

“Me neither,” Cas agrees. “That’s why I want you to spend the night. To take the next step.”

“Yeah, okay. I want that, too,” Dean says. Dean leans in to press their lips together one more time, and Castiel feels as if the entire world has righted itself as Dean strokes down the sides of his face. “Just remember I’m not expecting anything but to fall asleep with you, okay?”  
  
“I will, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Dean’s voice is as soft as his smile. “Can’t wait.”

Like every night since their first date, Castiel feels like he’s walking on air when he enters his apartment building that night. This has been the best week of his entire life. Spending so much time with Dean, falling in love with him, getting to know him in ways he’s never known anybody, and having so much fun experiencing new things together has been better than he even imagined it could be. Dean makes him feel smart and funny, and for the first time in his entire life, _ wanted, _ and it’s a surprisingly empowering discovery.

The only downside to their dates ending is coming home to an empty apartment every night. After spending hours being tangled up with Dean in one way or another, the apartment he always found cramped before feels too big for just him now. He knows he could have invited Dean inside and he would have come willingly, but until last night at Sam and Jess’s, he didn't feel quite right about moving things further. Truthfully, it was hearing Dean say he wasn’t angry at him anymore that made him start thinking about maybe taking the next step in their relationship, and with the weekend approaching, it seemed like the perfect time to put that on the table. 

He eases his lonely heart with the reminder that he won’t be alone in his apartment this time tomorrow. No, tomorrow night when he gets ready for bed like he is right now, he’ll have Dean here with him. That comforting thought lulls him to sleep that night and keeps him company at work on Friday. 

Jess is working today, and it’s safe to say that ever since his soulmate status with Dean has come out into the open, it’s more like he’s working with a friend rather than a regular employee. 

“Big plans for the weekend?” Jess asks him while they go through the aisles and make sure all the books have been put back in the right places by browsing customers throughout the day. 

“Kind of,” he admits. “Dean’s staying over tonight for the first time since we started dating.”

“Oooooh!” He laughs, but the truth is, he’s been getting more and more nervous as the day’s progressed. “Is that what has you so skittish today?”

He grimaces. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just when you’re not busy with something else,” Jess tells him. “So?”

“I didn’t think I would be, but yeah. I’m getting more nervous the closer it gets to quitting time.”

“What’re you nervous about? You’ve been spending a lot of time together before this, haven’t you?”

“Every night,” Castiel confirms.

“So what’s different about tonight, then?”

“We’ll be alone for the first time.”

“Ohhh,” Jess comments, seeming to get it now. “I feel like this should go without saying, but you know Dean would never do anything to hurt you.”

Castiel nods solemnly as he puts a book back in its rightful place. “I do know that. He’s just a lot more experienced than I am, and even though I want to be with him, I don’t really know what I’m doing.” As soon as he says it, he realizes he might have crossed a line, so he tacks on, “I’m sorry. Is it weird for you to talk about this sort of thing? Either because you work for me or because Dean’s basically your brother-in-law?”

“I mean, I don’t wanna know _ details, _ you know?” she laughs. “But other than that, I think it’s fine. We’re buds now, right?”

Castiel smiles and nods. “That’s what I was hoping.”

“Okay, so as far as not knowing what you’re doing... Dean does, and I’m sure he’ll walk you through it without making anything more awkward than it needs to be.” Then she pauses, and adds, “Although from what I’ve seen since I’ve met Sam, Dean hasn’t been with anybody in _ years, _so maybe he’s just as nervous as you are.”

Castiel breathes through a laugh at the very idea. “I somehow doubt that. He seems confident anytime we’re together.”

“I bet if you asked him, you’d be surprised by his answer.” That’s an interesting thought, but he doesn’t have time to concentrate on it because Jess keeps talking. “Anyway, it’s normal to be nervous at first. You’re still figuring stuff out. Just take things at your own pace, and if you feel like something’s moving too fast or you’re not ready, just tell Dean. He’s a pain in my ass most days, but when it matters, he’s a good guy. He’ll understand.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t already know, so it’s easy to agree. They continue working in silence for a few more minutes before he brings up the other thing on his mind. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always,” she replies.

“How long were you with Sam before you fell in love with him?”

A dreamy smile blooms on her face as she straightens up and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Honestly, I think I loved him before I even met him. Logically, I know it sounds ridiculous, but hearing all of the dorky songs he’d sing and his god-awful voice in my head made me fall for him before I even knew what he looked like.” Castiel nods again, knowing exactly how she felt (minus the god-awful voice part). “But as soon as we met and I saw him smile, it was like that ‘loved you before I met you’ feeling amplified times a million, and even now, it just gets bigger and bigger every day.” She finally looks in his direction, and asks, “Didn’t you feel like that before you met Dean?”

“I did. I fell in love with him through his music, listening to him sing and write his own songs,” he admits. “But I don’t sing. Dean didn’t even know I existed.”

“So Dean didn’t get a chance to fall in love with you before you met.” Castiel nods his head sadly, trying not to let that bother him. “What did he hear you sing that day he heard you for the first time?”

“Cotton-Eyed Joe,” Castiel tells her, delighting in the laugh that explodes out of her.

_ “Oh my god, _ I forgot about that! I can’t believe he figured out he had a soulmate when you sang _ that, _ all because of Sam being the annoying buffoon he is.”

“So you can see why he might not have fallen in love with me right away,” Castiel jokes.

“But still, he was into you from the beginning. You’ve known each other, what? A month now?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ve spent a ton of time together,” she points out. “If he isn’t already there, I’m sure he will be soon. I’ve never seen him how he is with you. He’s softer, more attentive, almost doting when it comes to you.” 

“He’s very sweet.”

“Maybe you should start singing more,” Jess suggests. “Give him something to think about that only you two can share.”

His palms start sweating immediately. “I don’t even know any songs.”

“So Google love songs or annoying songs or sexy songs,” she says with a wink. “Whatever you’re thinking about that you want to share with him. He’s a big softie inside, I bet he’ll love it even if you can’t sing all that well.”

He feels oddly excited by the idea, so he doesn’t have to work to smile at her genuinely. “I think I will. Thank you.”

“Go take fifteen,” she suggests. “I can finish up over here. Go find a song to sing to your man.”

His smile is more shy now, but he takes her suggestion and heads straight to his office. 

He Googles, “Songs about falling in love,” and when he sees a Taylor Swift song comes up, he knows he’s gone in the wrong direction from the kind of music Dean likes. He changes his search to, “Rock songs about falling in love,” and skims the titles that come up. The first one that catches his eye is, “I Want To Know What Love Is,” so he clicks on that one to give it a listen along with the lyrics. 

He likes what the chorus says, and he finds it fitting for tonight and for he and Dean together, so after listening to the chorus a couple of times on repeat while humming along, he’s as ready as he’s ever going to be. He takes a deep breath and starts singing. 

_“I wanna know what love is,  
_ _I want you to show me.  
_ _I wanna feel what love is.   
_ _I know you can show me.”_

It’s not even five minutes later when he gets a text message notification. 

**DEAN: **Worlds better than Cotton-Eyed Joe, Cas ❤️  
**DEAN:** Lyrics coincidental, or...?  
**CASTIEL: **Definitely not coincidental ❤️  
**DEAN:** Good. I can’t wait to see you  
**CASTIEL: **I’ll be home and waiting for you in less than two hours.   
**DEAN:** Countdown is on. See you soon!  
**DEAN:** ...and it was nice to hear you for once. Thanks. 

It sounds like Jess was right, Dean did appreciate getting a chance to hear him sing. He makes a mental note to remember to sing more often, even if he isn’t much of a singer. If it makes Dean happy, it’s something he’s willing to do. 

He and Jess share a secret smile when he goes back out into the store, and as nonsensical as it is, he feels much less nervous now than he did before they talked. Jess knows Dean well, and by this point, he feels like he does, too. He might have to wait a little while for Dean to catch up in the love department, but he’s waited more than ten years to actually meet Dean, so surely he can wait for this, too.

He’s walking home from work, delighting in the bright, sunny spring day, when Dean’s voice fills his head for the first time all day.

_“A warm hand in mine.  
_ _Lips soft and firm and pink.  
_ _Kisses so good the thought makes my head spin.  
_ _Not just any will do,  
_ _Not when I only want you.”_

Dean’s singing “Lock and Key,” and without any kind of confirmation whatsoever, he knows unequivocally that Dean’s singing it for him. He remembers when Dean first wrote those words after the first time they hung out together at his place, and he wondered then if they were for him. He asked Dean if he could hear it sometime and Dean denied him then, saying it was too sappy. But here he is singing it now, knowing that Castiel can hear him, and it lifts his spirits even more to know they’ve already come far enough that Dean no longer minds being “sappy” with him.

He hums the song to himself when he starts preparing dinner once he gets home, hoping Dean doesn’t mind something as simple as baked Mac and Cheese. It’s easy to make and doesn’t take long to cook, so that way he and Dean will be able to maximize their time together. Twenty minutes later, he’s boiled the pasta, mixed in the ingredients, half of the grated cheese, and put it in a baking dish. He’s just about to add the top layer of cheese and the crumbs to finish it off when he hears the buzzer.

He jogs over to let Dean in, and goes right back to work. The top layer of cheese is on by the time Dean knocks on the door, and Castiel pulls it open with a smile already on his face. Dean steps through the door and Castiel goes into his arms without a word, accepting the firm, lingering kiss Dean places on his lips with a hum of pure contentedness. 

When they pull apart, Dean sounds as breathless as he feels. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hi,” Castiel says back, experiencing a giddy sense of excitement now that Dean’s really here. Dean has his guitar and a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. “Want me to take something?”

“Nah, I’ll just go dump my bag in your room. What’re you making? It smells amazing in here.”

“Baked macaroni and cheese,” Castiel answers. 

“Fuckin’ A,” Dean says enthusiastically, and that answers his question about what Dean will think of dinner. 

“It’s almost ready to go in the oven. Are you okay to eat in thirty minutes or so?”

“I’m always ready to eat,” Dean assures him. He gets another quick peck to his lips that makes his cheeks feel warm before Dean walks through the living room into Castiel’s bedroom. Just knowing that Dean is in there makes his face heat up even more, so he turns his back and returns to the kitchen before his mind can wander too far in the wrong direction.

He’s just giving the breadcrumb topping one more mix when Dean walks in behind him. Only seconds later, Dean’s hands land low on his hips for a moment before Dean slides his hands around his waist. He feels Dean’s soft belly and hard chest slot against his back, and along with the strong arms now wrapped around him, he can’t imagine things getting any better than this. 

“Missed seeing you in here,” Dean says quietly.

Castiel huffs a laugh. “In the kitchen? How sweet of you,” he says sarcastically.

He gets a poke to the stomach for that, which makes him squirm and laugh. “I meant in your apartment, smart ass.”

He hasn’t finished what he was doing yet, but he gives into the urge to lean back against Dean anyway, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. He could definitely get used to this kind of distraction.

“I missed having you here.”

Dean presses a chaste kiss to the place his neck meets his shoulders, and Castiel sighs happily, tilting his head to the side to give Dean more room. He can feel Dean’s lips move against his skin when he talks. “Weren’t you in the middle of something?” he teases.

“Who cares?” 

Dean laughs and takes half a step back, dropping his hands back down to his hips. “I’ll have you know I worked up an appetite today.”

“Hard day?” he wonders.

“Inventory, so lots of bending and lifting.”

“Explains the bowling ball arms that were wrapped around me a minute ago.”

Dean just scoffs. “Please.”

He notices that Dean doesn’t sound displeased though, so he’s smiling when he finally finishes up what he’s doing. Because of Dean’s earlier comment about liking him in the kitchen, he lifts the casserole dish and spins around to hold it out to him. “30 minutes, please and thank you.”

“Yes sir,” Dean replies, leaning in for another quick kiss before taking the dish and placing it in the oven. 

Castiel moves to the sink to wash his hands, and when he turns around to dry them, Dean’s right in his space again. Dean shoots him an over-wide smile while he bounces his eyebrows, and Castiel can’t hold in a quiet laugh at the playful mood he seems to be in. He ignores Dean’s proximity the best he can while he dries his hands, but the moment he’s replaced the towel on the handle of the oven, Dean steers him back towards the closest flat surface with his hands on his hips.

He opens his mouth, and Dean’s tongue slips inside before his back hits the counter. His arms come around Dean instinctively to steady himself, but as their chests collide, he sinks into Dean’s strong arms and kisses him with everything he has. He swallows Dean’s muffled groan and runs his hands up and down his back, following the tantalizing shape of Dean’s broad shoulders down to his tiny waist and back up. 

He cants his hips forward, wanting even more contact between them now that they’re _ finally, _ blissfully alone, and he tilts his head back to release a moan when Dean’s hands slide down over his ass. Then Dean’s mouth is like fire on his neck, and all Castiel can do is stand there in his kitchen drowning in pleasure while Dean’s soft lips roam his skin and his hands squeeze his ass.

He hears a muffled, “Missed you,” that prompts him to urge Dean’s mouth back to his lips. 

They come together in a surprisingly sweet kiss, making his heart fill and his arms wind around Dean’s neck as they melt into it. Their lips break apart briefly when he’s suddenly lifted right off of his feet and deposited onto the kitchen counter like he doesn’t weigh a thing, and arousal curls abruptly and incredibly sharply in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck,” he curses before biting down on the side of Dean’s neck.

“Cas,” Dean whines, and once again, their lips meet. They crash in a messy whirl of tongues and teeth and extraordinarily soft lips, and he finally stops fighting the sexual chemistry that’s been simmering between them since they met. He’s wanted to touch Dean, to have Dean touch him for real and replace the memories of last time they were together ever since they kissed against the door on the first date, and with Dean’s hands on him and his tongue in his mouth, he can’t for the life of him come up with a single reason why he shouldn’t have him. 

Right now.

He grabs the hem of Dean’s shirt and starts lifting it, pulling it up to his armpits until Dean has to break the seal of his lips in order for him to get it up any higher. 

“Cas,” Dean starts, holding his hands still. “We don’t have to do this.”

“I know. But I want to,” he promises.

There’s still a silent question in Dean’s lust darkened eyes, but Castiel answers it with a nod, tugging harder and letting Dean know that he knows what he’s doing and what he wants. Dean’s shirt isn’t even over his head before Castiel reaches for his own, stripping it off and letting it fall to the floor in one fluid motion. 

Dean’s eyes have barely landed on his bare chest before his lips are there, kissing along his collarbone while his hands sweep up his sides reverently. Dean’s big hands and calloused fingertips traveling along his skin is a dizzying contrast to his lush mouth, and Castiel angles his body towards every touch and every kiss, unable to decide or care which one he enjoys more as long as Dean doesn’t stop. It’s several minutes before his head is clear enough to get his hands on Dean’s bare skin, but once he takes advantage of the opportunity, he wants to get lost in what seems like miles of soft skin pulled over hard muscle. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Cas.” Dean’s mouth is busy wandering over his chest, from one side to the other, up and down like he doesn’t want to miss sampling a single inch. It was only a matter of time until Dean reached his nipples, but still, nothing could have prepared him for the spike of pleasure when Dean places a dry kiss to one of them. He lets out a surprised, needy sound, and Dean’s eyes flick up to his. “Good?”

Castiel nods wordlessly, feeling so overwhelmed with pleasure already he doesn’t know how he can possibly feel any better. But that’s when Dean parts his lips and takes Castiel’s nipple into his mouth, applying just a hint of suction that immediately pulls a moan from his throat. Obviously encouraged, Dean flicks his tongue over the sensitive skin, making Castiel’s jaw drop and his fingers dig into Dean’s back, and he lets out a litany of breathless sounds as Dean begins alternating between licking, sucking, and closing his teeth around the pebbled bud. 

He’s breathing hard, stunned and getting increasingly more turned on with every touch, but as hot as this is, he doesn’t want to finish it in the kitchen.

“Dean.” Dean stops immediately, pulling back and looking up at him with a mix of curiosity and alarm. “Can we—” He loses his train of thought when Dean’s hands fall onto his thighs, only inches from where he really wants them. “Bedroom?”

Dean’s smile flashes quick and strikingly seductive, and the next thing he knows, Dean’s scooped him off of the counter. His stomach swoops and his cock hardens impossibly more at Dean’s blatant display of strength. 

Without thinking, his legs wrap around Dean’s waist as he lets out a series of nonsensical desperate whines and curses. _ “Ungh. _ Mmmf—fuck, you’re strong. _ Oh—_oh god. Oh fuck.” His arms coil around Dean’s neck immediately after, and he’s officially never been so turned on in his life as he is when Dean starts carrying him towards the bedroom like he isn’t six feet tall and more than one hundred and fifty pounds. “Oh, fuck me,” he moans, completely breathless. 

Dean laughs as he lays him out on the bed, looking so sexy smirking down at him he couldn’t look away if he wanted to. “Not tonight, sweetheart.”

His brain doesn’t start working fast enough to reply before Dean’s lips are back on his, and when Dean gives him a dirty curl of his tongue, he decides it’s not important anyway. Not when Dean’s turning him into a writhing, panting mess with only his mouth. Castiel gives back the best he's able to, kissing Dean with as much passion and skill as he can muster with his dick hard as iron and Dean on top of him. He feels like Dean is short-circuiting his brain with the way he’s licking over the backs of his teeth and along his soft palate, and every time he thinks he’s managing to keep up, Dean pulls a one-eighty and leaves him floundering, drowning in a pool of arousal so deep it’s impossible to keep his head above water. 

It’s in one of his most lucid moments when he reaches for Dean’s fly. His fingers may be trembling when he pops the button and lowers his zipper, but it’s from excitement and how unbearably horny he is more than nerves or fear. He knows without a doubt that he wants to touch Dean again, to feel his hardness against him with nothing between them, and the whimper he lets out against Dean’s lips when Dean’s heavy cock springs free of his jeans is more than enough proof of just how bad. He slips his shaking, over-eager hands along Dean’s hips under his boxers and clumsily pushes them over the swell of his ass in his haste. 

Dean takes over from there, shimmying everything off all at once and reaching for Castiel’s jeans in return. Together, they work them off in a flurry of movement and excited laughter, and finally, they’re naked together once more. 

Castiel is breathing hard, and already starting to leak onto his hip by the time Dean hovers over him, stopping just short of making the contact between their groins Castiel is so desperate for.

“We don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to. We can just keep kissing.”

“I want to keep going,” Castiel assures him.

To get things moving again, he leans up to curl his hand around the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him down to press their lips together, humming happily when Dean kisses him back hard enough that his head hits the pillow only moments later. Dean’s still holding himself over him, and because Castiel’s hands are free and he hasn’t had the chance to touch Dean yet, he lifts his hand and tentatively rubs his palm along the length of Dean’s erection.

Both Dean’s mouth and eyes pop open as he inhales a sharp breath, and Castiel does it again, smoothing his hand from base to tip as he watches Dean’s features shift with pleasure. “Shit, Cas,” Dean breathes. 

“Is... is it okay?” he asks nervously.

Dean lowers himself to his elbows and uses one of his free hands to cup his face. “Feels so good.”

Dean kisses him again, gently this time, and Castiel’s heart sings as he curls his fingers around Dean’s girth. He strokes him blindly, having no idea what he’s doing other than what he likes doing to himself, but he finds it awkward since his hand is facing away from him instead of towards him the way he’s used to. 

His heart is beating like a drum, his own cock almost painfully hard now because of how arousing it is to be touching Dean in a way he’s never touched anybody before. He finds it hotter and hotter every time he does something that makes Dean’s breath hitch, and he sets out to learn everything he can to make Dean feel as good as he feels. Dean’s vocal enough that it doesn’t take long to figure out that Dean gets more excited the closer he gets to his crown, so he focuses his attention there. He traces the ridge of skin where the shaft meets the head with his fingertips experimentally and stimulates the sensitive underside of his cock when he strokes him from root to tip. He tries closing his fist over the spongy head and spreads Dean’s precome along his slit with his thumb, earning himself a low moan from Dean he feels like an electric shock to his system.

He does it again, and he gasps for breath when Dean breaks their kiss to seal his mouth to the side of his neck. “Just—just squeeze your hand a little bit tighter, sweetheart,” Dean coaxes him. Castiel follows his direction, tightening his grasp and rolling the circle of his fingers along Dean’s cock, making Dean curse breathlessly into his skin. “Oh, fuck, that’s perfect, Cas. Doin’ so good.” 

They continue like that, with Dean mouthing at his neck and bare chest while Castiel continues to explore every ridge and vein of Dean’s cock. Now able to look between them, he feels his blood boil as he gets a glimpse of Dean’s flushed cockhead poking through the tunnel of his hand again and again until finally Dean asks, “Do you have any, uh, supplies?” Considering there’s no need for condoms, he’s not entirely sure what Dean’s asking for, so he just gazes back at him quizzically. “Lube, Cas. Do you have lube?”

He nods, fighting down the embarrassment of admitting this. “In the shower.”

“Kinky,” Dean quips, making Castiel laugh through his nerves. “I know this probably looks bad, but I brought some just in case. I wasn’t expecting anything, but I thought—just in case, you know?—it would be better to be prepared than not.”

Because Dean seems so adorably shy to admit it, Castiel can’t help but smile. “It doesn’t look bad. I’m glad you thought ahead.”

Dean places a smacking kiss to his lips and rolls out of bed, walking over to where his duffle bag is on the floor. Castiel rolls over onto his side to watch Dean’s drool-worthy bare ass as he bends over, absentmindedly stroking himself as he admires Dean’s bow legs and the flexing muscles in Dean’s back. He truly hit the jackpot with Dean in every way, but his body type is something pulled right out of Castiel’s dirtiest dreams. Even knowing that he just had all of that impossibly perfect freckled skin and firm muscle laid out on top of him and _ moaning _ a minute ago has a fire burning low in his groin as he thrusts lazily through his own fist.

Dean shoots him a cocky smile as he turns around, but it fades the second his eyes drop to where Castiel has his dick in his hand. His heart lurches painfully once he realizes what he’s doing in front of Dean, and he releases himself, returning to his back. He’s so embarrassed he feels a film of moisture spring to his eyes. He shouldn’t have been looking at Dean like he’s a piece of meat. Now Dean’s probably going to think he’s a pervert or something, and he’s already managed to ruin everything all over again just when they finally got back to a good place.

“You tryin’ to kill me?” Dean asks. The bed dips next to him as Dean climbs back between his legs, but he keeps his head turned away from him to try to hide his face. Dean nuzzles into the side of his neck again, making his way up to his cheek where Dean presses a kiss before moving up further. “Looked so fucking hot touchin’ yourself like that,” Dean whispers into his ear. Dean’s teeth catch on his earlobe and tug, and Castiel’s jaw drops as he tries to make sense of what Dean just said. 

“R-really?”

“Hell yes,” Dean answers enthusiastically. “Some day I’m gonna ask you to do that for me, and it’s gonna be fuckin’ torture not to touch you myself, but I’m gonna watch and learn exactly how you like to touch yourself when you’re thinking about me.” 

Castiel’s mouth falls open further as a shock of arousal slams into him like a fist. _ “Yes. _ I—I want that.”

All of his prior worries disappear within moments when Dean captures his lips in a searing kiss, and Dean slowly, carefully, _ finally _ lowers himself on top of him. They slot together perfectly, and the sensation of skin-to-skin from head-to-toe takes his breath away all over again. He inhales sharply, ending their kiss, and though Dean’s breathing hard now, he asks, “Is this okay?”  
_  
“Yes,” _Castiel says hoarsely. “Oh my god, Dean. I love this. You feel so good on top of me.”

Dean drops his forehead to Castiel’s, resting it there and holding eye contact while Castiel runs his hands up and down Dean’s back, trying to commit every inch of his naked body to memory. He can’t stay still with Dean’s cock slotted against his, and he’s thrusting up and against Dean’s warm, soft body before he’s even decided to do it.

“Dean,” he gasps, overcome with a burning need. “Dean, please.”

“Shhh, hang on, sweetheart,” Dean soothes him, running one hand soothingly down his flank. “You okay? Scared, nervous, freaking out or anything?”  
  
Castiel shakes his head. Somewhere beneath the _ more, more, more _ thrumming under his skin, he recognizes that Dean being attentive enough to stop and ask him makes him feel warm inside. Unlike the last time they were together when he followed his body’s instincts instead of his heart, this time he stops and takes a deep breath, making note of how there’s only excitement and a quiet assurance at his core. He feels sure, safe, and cared for. 

“No, nothing like that. It feels _ right.” _

Dean’s eyes go soft, and he nods his head slightly. “For me, too. I—” Dean stops, licks his lips nervously. “Shoulda always been like this,” he says, the apology as clear as day in his eyes. “And I promise I’m gonna do everything I can so it keeps feelin’ this way, okay? Always. You mean so damn much to me, Cas.”

“Dean—” _ I love you. _ “Kiss me,” he replies instead.

Dean does, with so much care and tenderness that he can feel the sweetness pulling at his heartstrings. Weirdly, instead of putting a damper on the mood, his arousal increases as every touch and every kiss takes on a tangible double meaning. It’s no longer touching each other to excite, but to worship and revere, and although he doesn’t understand why, it makes everything more pleasurable, more sensual, more erotic. 

Dean’s mouth eventually inches down his chin and past his neck, starting a new journey over his chest. Dean stops to linger over his nipples long enough to get him panting and writhing all over again, and only when he’s murmuring a constant stream of, “Please, please, pleasepleaseplease,” does Dean continue his way down his stomach. He’s never had somebody kiss him here, and he watches with his chest heaving and his mouth hanging open as Dean continues moving lower and lower towards his throbbing erection. 

Dean’s lips leave a trail of fire everywhere they touch, and when he latches onto the skin stretched tight across his left hip bone, Castiel weaves his fingers through the long hair on top of Dean’s head to hold him in place. He just barely resists the urge to thrust into nothing, blindly searching for friction as Dean takes him apart sucking a dark, tender bruise into his skin. 

What could be seconds or minutes later, Dean pulls away to admire his handiwork, caressing the completed hickey with the pad of his thumb and sending an electric current of pleasure directly to his dick. “Been wanting to do that since the second I saw ‘em,” Dean says with a grin. His hands move back up Castiel’s belly and over his sides, dropping kisses along his skin as he goes. Castiel pulls at his back, trying desperately to get him closer, but by the time Dean reaches his mouth, his expression has turned from teasing to sincere. “Fuckin’ love your body, Cas. Love all of you.”

His heart skips several beats, and he pulls Dean in for a needy, urgent kiss to stop himself from declaring his undying love right this instant. Their lips stay locked together after that, even when Dean manages to spread the lube onto his hand to slick them both up, one at a time, until their cocks are aligned and they start to move together with intention. Feeling Dean’s hardness pressed against him, slipping and sliding along with his, and their cockheads touching, bumping, and dragging together drives him closer to the edge with every sinful roll of Dean’s hips. 

Their grinding gets more insistent the closer they both get, and when one of Dean’s hands gently guides Castiel’s leg to wrap around his lower back, it erases an additional tiny sliver of space between them, and he whimpers at how insanely good it feels. The very next thrust against him has him gasping with the onslaught of pleasure, and he’s officially unable to maintain their kiss after that. He throws his head back with a choked-off groan, calling out again immediately after when Dean nips at that spot on his throat that drives him crazy.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice comes out low and muffled against his skin, but he hears him start to chant his name like a prayer between wet, open-mouthed kisses to his neck. “Cas, Cas, _ fuck Cas.” _

Hearing his name on Dean’s lips is incendiary, and his second leg joins the first, effectively wrapping himself around Dean as tightly as he possibly can. Dean thrusts against him even harder, and the sound of their bodies slapping together explodes in his ears like thunder. He’s getting close already, can feel the heat gathering low in his stomach, and time loses all meaning as he inches closer and closer to the edge.

With his eyes squeezed tightly closed, he gets mental flashes of his skin scratched red from Dean’s facial hair, his fingers slipping in the damp sweat that’s gathered on Dean’s back, of Dean’s breathless curses as he chases his pleasure, and finally, lightning ripping through him like the sky when Dean gets two handfuls of his bare ass.

Between one breath and the next, he’s locking up and coming so explosively he actually shouts himself hoarse as he erupts between them. 

He’s dimly aware of Dean’s wrecked sounding, “Oh _ fuck, _oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” and of his thrusts becoming wetter and smoother thanks to Castiel’s warm cum pooling around them. 

Still in a haze with his head buzzing, he works his hand between their bodies and grasps Dean’s cock in his hand, making a tight tunnel the way Dean seemed to like so much last time. Dean presses their foreheads together again, thrusting messily into his fist, and Castiel watches his eyes as they glass over more and more with pleasure without ever fully unfocusing. He’s being watched, stared at, his soul penetrated with the steadiness of Dean’s gaze, and even though he’s already had his orgasm, he feels like he’s still on edge until Dean gets there with him. 

Time slows down, and the final moments before Dean shatters simultaneously seem to stretch on for eons and speed by in a single heartbeat. Castiel can taste Dean’s heavy breaths on his lips, hear the slick sound of him fucking his fist, and smell the sex and sweat and masculine scent of _ Dean _ in the air all around them. He’s all too aware of Dean’s cock growing impossibly harder within his grasp and of the strangled sounds he pulls from him each time he tightens his fingers, but with Dean’s green eyes dark with arousal locked on his, everything else fades away except for the connection between them as Dean’s pleasure begins to crest. 

He watches as Dean’s eyebrows draw together and his jaw unhinges, then Castiel can feel Dean’s muscles tense a split second before Dean presses their lips together and comes all over Castiel’s fingers and stomach with a muffled cry. 

If he didn’t just come, he’s sure feeling Dean ejaculate onto his hand and stomach would have pushed him there all its own. It’s warm, physical proof that he managed to arouse _ Dean _ enough to bring him to orgasm by himself for the first time, and he’s exhilarated and undeniably proud as he helps Dean work through the aftershocks. Dean’s thrusts stutter and slow before they stop altogether, and when Dean collapses on top of him, he wipes his hand on the bedsheets before he wraps his arms around Dean. 

“Shit,” Dean pants, pushing his face into the column of Castiel’s sweaty neck. His hand clumsily finds Castiel’s cheek, and Castiel turns his head to kiss his palm, feeling sated and happy and free. “You good, sweetheart?”

Castiel turns his head the other way and kisses the first part of Dean’s forehead he can find. “Good is an understatement.”

“Mmhmm,” Dean hums happily. _ “God, _I needed that.”

Castiel snorts a laugh. “I can’t imagine why after how many times we got each other worked up this week.”

“Worth it,” Dean mutters. Then he lets out a huge sigh as he rolls onto his back, immediately pulling at Castiel to join him. Castiel goes willingly, tucking himself into Dean’s side and resting his head on his shoulder. “Though I swear I didn’t plan to get you naked before we even ate.” 

Castiel hums in response, not caring in the least about what Dean’s intentions were when they wound up the way they are right now. Dean starts stroking down his back and brushing his fingers through his hair, and Castiel feels lazy and happy and so very sleepy all of the sudden that he lets his eyes droop closed so he can soak in how wonderful this moment feels. 

He must fall asleep, because the next thing he knows, the sound of the oven timer startles him awake. He hops out of bed, stopping just long enough to step into his boxers and grimace at the dried cum crusted all over his stomach before he hurries into the kitchen to pull their dinner out of the oven. The topping is browned perfectly, the cheese is bubbling up along the sides, and it smells _ amazing. _ Unfortunately, it’s also going to be about twenty million degrees for the next little while, so he turns off the oven and heads back to the bedroom. He finds Dean almost exactly where he left him, but a pillow has taken his place against Dean’s chest. It’s endlessly endearing, and after standing there just watching him sleep for a few minutes, he goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

By the time he’s cleaned up and dried off, dinner will be cool enough to serve, and he’ll wake Dean up then. He strips off his boxers and steps under the spray, letting out a quiet sigh as the hot water beats down on his back. He tilts his head back and wets his hair, pushes it out of his eyes, and then turns to let the water run down his face. He’s just turned around again to reach for his shampoo when he hears Dean’s voice.

“Knock, knock?”

It’s ridiculous to feel shy about Dean being in the bathroom with him when Dean’s already seen him naked, but embarrassment rushes through him anyway. “Yeah?”

“Need a hand in there?”

Um?

“I—I thought you were sleeping?”  
  
“I was, but my ‘Cas might be wet and naked spidey senses’ kicked in,” Dean quips. “Seriously though, can I come in? I’m kinda covered in jizz.”

He’s undeniably nervous, but he says, “Sure.”

Dean pulls back the curtain a second later, and Castiel suddenly has no idea what he’s supposed to do. Is he supposed to look, not look? How are they going to share a shower when there’s only one shower head? 

“Oh, thank god you’re not one of those people who have luke-warm showers,” Dean says, standing in front of him and effectively cutting him off from the spray of the water. “That coulda been a deal breaker you know,” he jokes. He _ jokes, _ as if he isn’t stark naked standing less than a foot away from him in the shower. “Dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. You okay?”

He considers lying for a split second before he remembers how bad things went the last time he lied to Dean. “I’m nervous. I’ve never showered with somebody before.” His face is burning when he admits, “I don’t know what to do.”

Dean’s shoulders drop and he blows out a long stream of air. “Meanwhile I’m hopping in here like a bull in a china shop,” Dean comments. Dean reaches for his hips, his eyebrows raised to ask silently if this is okay, and Castiel nods timidly and steps into his arms. “I honestly hate being totally naked in front of people, so I, uh, crack jokes and pretend like it isn’t weird even though the first couple times usually are,” Dean confesses. 

“Really?”

“Hate it,” Dean confirms. “There is no attractive way to walk naked with a dick flopping around.”

Castiel laughs at the mental image _ that _ gives him, and Dean grins. “See, joke cracking. Laughing usually helps.”

“It did, but I’m cold now,” Castiel says. Dean smiles for real, and then he’s being spun around so his back is to the shower head. 

“Shampoo?” Dean asks. 

“Yes please.”

Dean turns to grab it, but instead of handing him the bottle, he pops the top and squirts it into his palm. “Face the water for me?” 

Castiel does as he asks, and then he lets out a quiet groan when he feels Dean's hands slip into his hair. Dean must step forward, because his chest bumps into his back, and then Dean’s elbows rest on his shoulders while his hands work the shampoo into a lather. 

“You like when I touch your hair.” 

There’s no question in Dean’s voice, but he says, “Mmhmm.”

He can hear Dean take in a deep breath in the silence. “I love the smell of your shampoo. I couldn’t place it ‘til I read the label just now, but it’s vanilla. Well, vanilla rum, I guess, but all I knew was that it smelled sweet. Not all musky like most guy’s shampoo. It’s nice, very you.”

“Thank you,” Castiel answers. Feeling comfortable with the subject matter, he continues, “I like it, too. I like testing the boundaries of my masculinity. Trying to learn what I’m comfortable with and what I’m not, and then pushing myself to figure out why.”

“Like your pretty bee bracelet.”

He smiles, knowing that Dean gets it. “Exactly.”

“I’m, uh, pretty manly, through-and-through,” Dean says, purposely lowering his voice and making him laugh quietly. “But it’s weirdly hot to see you wear a girly-looking bracelet and smell like vanilla, so anytime you wanna explore that, you just let me know.”

Castiel chuckles quietly. “So selfless of you.”

“Hey, I _ am _ washing your hair right now.”

“And definitely not accidentally-on-purpose rubbing against my ass in the process.”

Dean can’t quite stifle his laugh. “I’m teaching you how people stay warm sharing a shower, thank you very much.” 

“Your dick is cold?” he asks skeptically.

“Not anymore,” Dean cracks, and even though he’s not that funny, Castiel finds himself laughing along with Dean. “Look who's giving me a hard time now that he got his rocks off, huh?” Castiel laughs again, and Dean says, “Rinse.”

He tilts his head into the spray, trying valiantly to ignore the way Dean lowers his mouth to his neck and his hands to his hips while Castiel works the shampoo out of his hair. Once it’s all out, he leans back into Dean’s embrace, smiling when Dean’s hands circle his waist. 

“Gotta get the soap,” Dean says after pressing a final kiss to the side of his neck. He smells the soapy suds only a second before he feels the little bit of what’s left of the bar nestled in Dean’s palm as it starts to slide across his shoulder. Dean moves his hand in broad circles, across his shoulders and down his back. 

“Okay, this is pretty nice,” Castiel admits. 

“Can’t beat the view,” Dean agrees. His hands slip down to Castiel’s ass, and it’s a testament to how incredibly arousing Dean is that he feels his dick starting to fill out again already. “Or this ass, Cas. Damn, you have a _ great _ ass.”

Castiel is fighting a losing battle trying to keep his mind on getting clean rather than how good it feels to have Dean touching him. “You’re... very good with your hands.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Dean teases. “Turn around.” Castiel does so without thinking, and Dean begins offering the same treatment to his arms, neck, chest and stomach as he did his back. The lower he gets, the more aroused Castiel becomes, until he’s undeniably panting and almost completely hard. “Well, well, well,” Dean says slowly, inching his hands between Castiel’s legs. “What do we have here?”

Castiel swallows. “You keep touching me.”

“Did it sound like I was complaining?” Dean questions. It’s easy to tell by his voice that he isn’t, so Castiel shakes his head. “Gotta get you nice and clean, okay?”

“Okay.”

And then those soapy hands are between his legs, fondling and rubbing his testicles, forcing a needy whimper from his lips that Dean kisses away. His mouth hangs open uselessly as Dean kisses him, one hand stimulating his balls while the other massages fingers through his pubic hair and finally wraps around his cock. Dean keeps up the pretense of washing him, so his hands are gentle and teasing instead of determined and sure—not that that makes them feel any worse. 

“It’s real sexy feelin’ you get so hard for me. You want me to help you take care of that?”

Is he supposed to say yes? Is it normal to want somebody this quickly after just being with them not so long ago? Is it typical for people sharing showers to wind up engaging in sexual activity? 

“I-If you want to,” he finally settles on. 

“I always want to,” Dean replies. “Always wanna touch you, wanna make you feel good.”

Nervously, he asks, “Just like this?”

“Well, I was kinda thinking about turning you back around, making use of the lube you have in here, and jerking you off while I fuck between your thighs.” Dean says it so evenly, like it’s totally normal to just say something like that and not expect it to make Castiel harden impossibly further so suddenly it makes his knees feel weak. “If that’s okay,” Dean continues, his words softer now. “If that’s too much, we can—”

“It’s okay,” Castiel answers. His voice has already dropped into a lower register, and he’s sure that no matter how much he’d like to pretend he isn’t already eager for Dean to touch him again, Dean is just as aware of the change as he is. “It sounds... hot.”

Dean smiles, fast and playful and maybe even a little proud? He doesn’t have the chance to ask before Dean leans in and catches his lips in a long, drawn out kiss that’s as satisfying as it is wet. Their lips move together seamlessly, pressing and giving and coaxing the other’s in, and when Dean tugs him close until their bodies are flush, he can feel that he’s not the only one ready for a second round. 

He makes a breathless little sound that earns him a moan of appreciation from Dean before Dean breaks the seal of their mouths. “Love the sounds you make for me,” Dean says, laying another firm kiss on his lips. He reaches for the lube after that, and Castiel turns around without being prompted this time. He washes the soap off of his stomach and shoulders, and Dean appears behind him once more and steers him sideways so that he’s facing the wall.

“This way I’m not freezing my ass off back there,” Dean tells him, and Castiel nods his understanding while Dean’s hands slip back around his waist. One hand drifts up to his chest, thumbing over his nipple before rolling it between his fingers. 

Just that is enough to draw a harsh, panting breath from his lungs. Dean noses up the column of his throat, working that spot on the bolt of his jaw he’s obviously fond of, and an approving moan rumbles up from his chest. Dean hums against his skin, and the next thing he knows, there’s a hand sliding down over his hip bone and curling around his erection.

He bites down on his bottom lip to hold in what he’s sure would have been another embarrassing sound, but that only lasts until Dean strokes him from root to tip. The lube helps Dean to twist his wrist _ perfectly _ once he reaches the head, and he couldn’t hold in the rasping moan _ that _ elicits for anything. Dean hooks his chin over his shoulder, but he’s much more distracted by Dean’s cock nudging against him from behind than thinking about Dean watching him. 

“You’ve got such a pretty cock, Cas.” All he can do as he hears Dean say _ that _is try to remember how to breathe, because Dean’s proximity combined with the heat of the shower and Dean’s low, crooning voice talking about the cock in his hand he’s obviously looking at while he jerks him off is a lot to attempt to deal with all at once. “Nice and thick, and just the right size to fit perfectly in my hand.”

He has no idea what he’s supposed to say, but Dean’s paused like he’s waiting for a response. “O-okay.”

“I’ve thought about you a lot,” Dean says, more quietly now. “About your body. Your cock, your unbelievable ass. All the things I wanna show you and all the ways I’m gonna make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before, and it’s so fucking hot to know I get to be there for all your firsts.” Castiel nods, trying to hold himself back from thrusting into Dean’s hand that continues to stoke him with a soft, slick palm, and rough, calloused, incredibly nimble fingers. “Remember when I told you that at the movie theater that time? How lucky your soulmate was gonna be? And it’s me.”

He remembers. Of course he remembers. “Yes.”

“I’m the luckiest son of a bitch alive,” Dean declares. “To get to see you like this. Touch you like this. To make you feel as good as you deserve. You’re so damn gorgeous, Cas. Can’t get enough of you. ‘m never gonna get enough of you.”

He’s already impossibly close, and he whines a gentle, awed,_ “Dean.” _

“I’m gonna slide in behind you now, okay sweetheart?” Castiel nods his head, anxious to feel all of Dean up against him. The hand on his chest leaves suddenly, and then the length of Dean’s cock is sliding along his asscrack, hot and slick and so very, very real that he freezes up when nerves hit him like a punch to the stomach. “Hey, it’s okay,” Dean assures him, caressing his hip. “I’m not gonna do anything but rut against you, just like we did in bed, but the other end this time. Okay?”

“Just—just give me a second before you move,” he rasps. His throat is bone dry and his insides are tied in knots all of the sudden. 

“All the time you need,” Dean promises. Dean’s voice is strained now though, and as nervous as he is, knowing it must feel good for Dean loosens the knot a little bit. “Have I mentioned how amazing your ass is?”

He relaxes enough to laugh nervously. “You did.”

“You, uh, ever touch yourself down here?”

_ Oh god. _ Heat flashes on his skin like fire at the memory. “O-once.”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Dean says quickly, and Castiel notices Dean’s hand tightens where it’s still stroking him languidly. “‘m I allowed to ask if it was recently?”  
  
“It was.” He’s starting to breathe hard again now, and his face feels like it’s on fire when he confesses, “I was thinking about you.”

“Jesus fuck,” Dean curses breathlessly. “I’m not gonna have to move to blow my load after all.”

Castiel laughs, feeling the movement shake his body enough that his ass moves against Dean’s cock. When that doesn’t scare him, he says, “You can move now if you want to. M-maybe slowly at first.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright, nice and slow.” Dean backs his hips up, pauses, and pushes forward again, sliding his cock snugly between his cheeks. He makes a quiet noise, letting Castiel know he’s enjoying it, and then retreats to start again. “Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you squeeze your legs together for me, sweetheart? Nice and tight.” Castiel does, careful to keep his balance, and when Dean starts thrusting again, he can feel the friction between his legs and along the cleft of his ass. “Fuck, you feel good. You tell me if I go too fast or you don’t like it, though.”

He nods again, but closes his eyes to better concentrate on the unfamiliar sensation of something sliding between his legs. Each time Dean’s cock slips between his cheeks and over his asshole, he feels sparks of pleasure explode low in his stomach that remind him a lot of that one time he touched himself. The more he relaxes, the easier it becomes to focus on the added stimulation to what seems to be a very sensitive spot and how very, very good it feels. When Dean matches the rhythm of his wrist to the thrust of his hips, it’s almost like he’s getting fucked and is doing the fucking at the same time, and it only takes a half dozen perfectly timed strokes to have him breathing hard all over again.

“Feel good?” Dean asks.

“Feels amazing,” Castiel admits. “I’ve never—only ever my finger—” he tries to explain. “You feel—your-your dick on my ass—I like how it feels.” A shiver wracks him head to foot just from confessing how much he likes this, and he has to brace one hand on the wall so his legs don’t give out, whining, _ “God, _it feels so good.”

_ “Fuck, _ Cas,” Dean gasps. “Fuck. You don’t know how hot it makes me when you—” He stops just long enough to scrape his teeth along his skin. “—when you say shit like that.”

Knowing all about the urges that Dean must have but tries to keep at bay because of him, he takes an educated guess at what turns Dean on about what he said and goes a little bit further. 

“I... think about it sometimes.”

“Mmmm,” Dean moans, low and dirty next to his ear. “What do you think about?”

“About... being like this... with you.”

“Shit,” Dean curses. Dean’s hand picks up the pace, and he starts stroking him almost brutally fast, making it nearly impossible for him to think clearly. “Just like this? Me behind you? Touching you?”

“About you... someday...” Heat is building like an inferno inside of him, and as much as a part of him knows they’ve barely gotten started, he also knows it isn’t going to take much more to get him off again. Not with Dean’s cockhead brushing his asshole while jerking his cock so perfectly. Not with Dean’s hard cock riding the crack of his ass and nudging his testicles. Not with Dean’s fingers wrapped around his hip bone, and especially not with what he’s pretty sure they’re both thinking about. “...being inside me.”

_ “C-Cas.” _ Dean chokes on his name, stiffens behind him and comes without warning. His release is warm and sticky and incredibly hot where it drips between Castiel’s ass cheeks and down the insides of his thighs. 

Dean lets out an almost painful-sounding cry he doesn’t quite manage to muffle against Castiel’s neck, and when Dean’s fingers tighten like a vice on his hip, pressing on the bruise he sucked there not that long ago, Castiel is abruptly right there with him. Without thinking, he adds his own hand to Dean’s where it’s stopped working his cock. The touch seems to jar Dean back to his senses, and with their fingers now interlaced, Castiel closes his eyes, pushes back against his soulmate until his softening cock is pressed snugly right to his hole, and fucks the slick tunnel the two of them make together. 

“Come on, Cas. Wanna see you. Wanna see you come all over the shower wall just like I came all over your sweet ass.” Castiel whimpers, so, so close. “Come for me. Come for me, sweetheart. Just for me.”

That does it. Pleasure rolls over him like a tidal wave, and he comes for a second time today, painting the shower wall with surprisingly thick ropes of cum that slide down the wall the same way Dean’s cum is still clinging between his legs. 

“Mmmm, look at you. So fucking hot, coming so damn perfect for me. Shit, Cas. I’m so—I’m so gone on you, man. C’mere.”

He’s still out of breath when Dean spins him around and his back hits the cold shower tile, but he opens his mouth and invites Dean’s tongue inside, clinging to him both for his warmth and because he needs to be closer. Dean’s kiss is wonderfully tender, his mouth as unbelievably soft as always, and Castiel feels boneless and lightheaded when he decides he would happily stay right here with Dean’s lips against his for the rest of his life. 

Or at least until the water runs cold. 

When Dean is finally forced to pull away for air, he asks, “Was that okay, Cas?”  
  
“It was unbelievable,” he breathes. “Will it always be like this?”

“If I get a say, damn right it will. Might even get better when we learn each other’s bodies more, get more comfortable.”

Castiel shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t imagine better.”

“Just wait,” Dean promises, sealing it with another kiss. Much, much later, after dozens of drawn-out, soft, lazy, loving kisses, Dean asks, “How cold do you think that Mac ‘n’ Cheese is?”

Very, it turns out, but he’s not at all surprised when they both agree it’s still the best meal they’ve shared so far. 


	14. Chapter 14

Dean’s in_ heaven. _ Not even counting the two orgasms they’ve each had (and they were unbelievable—_Cas _ is unbelievable), tonight has already been one of the best nights they’ve had together, purely because they’re alone and can do whatever the hell they want to. And the best part is they still have another few hours to kill before they go to bed _ together. _

They go out onto the balcony after they devour half of the dinner that was supposed to feed six people, and he doesn’t miss the excited look in Cas’s eyes when he grabs his guitar. 

“You keep lookin’ at me like that and I’m not gonna be able to fit through doors with my head so big,” he teases. 

“I’m sure you could use a bigger head when it comes to your music,” Cas says back, and since he’s not wrong, Dean doesn’t argue the point. “What are you going to do without a pick?” 

Dean lifts his eyebrows, amused by the assumption. “I _ always _ have a pick.”  
  
“But you’re wearing pajamas.”

Understanding that Cas is referring to how he always has a pick in his jeans pocket, Dean points to the case, roots around, and pulls one out. “There’s like, twenty of ‘em in there. I toss them in every time I change my pants.”

“Good to know.” 

Dean just smiles as he runs the pick over the strings. “Any requests?”

Cas laughs the way he hoped he would. “You know I don’t know anything.”

“I don’t know, you sounded pretty sure of what you were singing earlier.”

“I Googled love songs,” Cas says, and Dean thinks that might be the cutest thing he’s ever heard. 

“Well, I’ve got nothing in mind, so how ‘bout I just play you what you sang to me?”

“Do you know it?”

Dean shrugs. “I’ve heard it enough times.”

“Wait, so you can just hear a song and know how to play it?”  
  
“Most of the time,” Dean answers. “There’s only so many chords, you know. Just a matter of putting them in the right order.”

“That’s _ brilliant,” _ Cas gushes. “I’d love to hear it. Can I take a video of you?”  
  
Dean grimaces, feeling embarrassment prickling at the back of his neck. “Do you have to? I’m in pajamas.”

“No.”

But Cas wants to, he can tell. “Fine,” he sighs heavily. “But only ‘cause I don’t know how to say no to you yet.”

Cas sounds pleased when he thanks him, and Dean picks out a couple of notes one at a time before he starts singing. The first few verses are easy enough to get through, but he feels oddly vulnerable when he has to sing the words, _ “In my life, there’s been heartache and pain. I don’t know if I can face it again.” _ Probably because it’s true. Between Cassie leaving him and Cas lying to him, he doesn’t know how much more he can take. 

But he feels better, stronger when the chorus kicks in. He knows he’s falling in love with Cas, knows he might be more than most of the way there, and even though it scares the ever loving shit out of him, he also believes Cas will never hurt him again and that they’re meant to be together. That helps him to muster up the courage to ignore the camera and look Cas right in his eyes when he sings, _ “Looks like love has finally found me.” _

He wishes he had a camera of his own to capture the look on Cas’s face, because if that’s not love in _ his _ eyes looking right back at him like Cas has no idea how easy it is to see it, then he doesn’t have a guitar in his hands right now. He barely remembers singing his way through the chorus a second time, so focused on the way it feels like his heart is beating just for Cas, filling faster than he thought was possible, so damn full he wouldn’t be surprised if it exploded right out of his chest.

The longer he sits with the feeling, the more comfortable it becomes, and as he keeps playing, he realizes it’s actually a familiar feeling. It’s the same thing he feels whenever he has Cas in his arms, anytime Cas laughs or smiles that gummy smile he loves so much. 

_ Loves? _

Holy shit, he’s not _ falling _ in love with Cas, he’s already there!

_ How? _ How do you fall in love with somebody in less than a month? He ignores the tiny voice in the back of his head that tells him they’re soulmates and he’s always felt closer to Cas than what made sense. That almost makes him feel like he didn’t have a choice _ but _ to fall for Cas and he hates that idea, so he pushes it down and concentrates on how happy Cas looks instead—how happy Cas is gonna be when he tells him he loves him for the first time. Hell, it won’t even just be the first time for _ them, _ it’ll be the first time anybody has ever been in love with Cas and the first time Cas will ever hear somebody say it. 

This has gotta be the first time Cas has ever been in love with somebody, too. Is that why Cas sang that song to him this afternoon? Does Cas need to know what it is he’s feeling? That it’s okay to feel it, or was it just purely coincidental? He doesn’t know. He very rarely has the right words, especially when he hasn’t planned them out in advance, but he does have this song he can sing. So he forgets about everything else and gazes back at Cas with an open expression while he sings to his soulmate about love.  
  
_ “Let’s talk about love.   
_ _ The love that you feel inside,  
_ _ and I’m feeling so much love.  
_ _ You just cannot hide. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ I wanna know what love is.  
_ _ I wanna feel it, too.   
_ _ I want to feel it, too.  
_ _ I know you can show me. _ _  
_ _ Show me love is real.  
_ _ I wanna know what love is.” _

Cas moves into his space as soon as he’s done singing, and he welcomes the embrace Cas gives him, dropping his nose onto his neck. He can smell Cas’s soap and the shampoo he’s now intimately familiar with, and it calms him. Reminds him of all the millions of little things he’s learning about Cas and how right it feels to have Cas in his arms, and he concentrates on that instead of freaking out about how fast his feelings have grown.  
  
“That was beautiful.” He can hear the awe in Cas’s voice, and while it makes his face heat up because he feels like he doesn’t deserve it, he can also tell that Cas does. “I could listen to you sing forever.”

“Well, that’s probably a good thing since I’m not planning on shutting up any time soon.”

Cas chuckles quietly as he pulls away. “I wasn’t even thinking that I _ will _ hear you sing for the rest of my life. I’m a very lucky man.”

“We’ll see if you still think so when I keep you up when I get a song idea stuck in my head again.”

“At least now I can text or call you to tell you to shut up,” Cas says, and now it’s Dean’s turn to laugh. 

“What other songs did you find when you Googled love songs?”

Cas blows out a stream of air as he thinks about it. “I can’t remember all of them, but seeing one by Taylor Swift is what made me realize I needed to search for the best _ rock _ songs about love because I was clearly on the wrong track.”

“Just between us,” Dean starts, hoping this doesn’t get back to Sam, “she’s not all that bad. I mean, I don’t know every song of hers or anything, but there’s some that are catchy, and more than anything... she’s an unbelievable song writer.”

Cas smiles nice and wide, and asks, “Will you play me a Taylor Swift song?”

Dean sighs heavily, mostly for show, while he tries to think of which song he should play for Cas. “She writes the best break-up songs, and a few of them are some of the saddest songs I’ve ever heard, so not exactly something that makes me think of you. But uh,” he pauses, puts his fingers on the fretboard, and plays the first chord. “This one’s sorta romantic. It’s called ‘Lover.’”

Because Cas has that silly smile on his face still, like he’s proud of the fact that he got Dean to play a Taylor Swift song, Dean doesn’t play it completely seriously. He changes some of the words so that he says he’s loved him three weeks instead of three summers, and even though he blushes saying those specific words so soon after his revelation, he gets one of those big gummy smiles that makes his heart flip in his chest. That encourages him to do it again when he gets to the bridge, which is when he tells Cas he’ll save all of his dirtiest jokes for him instead of the other way around like in the song. He adds a wink, earning himself a belly laugh from Cas that makes his heart soar, and by the time he reaches the end of the song, he’s smiling so big he can’t even pretend he’s not glad Cas talked him into this.

He didn’t realize until Cas tapped his phone at the end that he was recording all of that, too, but it was fun anyway, so he’s sure he’ll enjoy looking back at it someday.

“You’re right,” Cas tells him after he’s done clapping for him. “She’s an excellent song writer. What was that thing you said about ending up together?”

_ “All’s well that ends well to end up with you.” _  
  
“Yes!” Cas exclaims. “Hopefully that resonated with you as much as it did with me.”

Dean reaches over and tugs Cas into his side, sliding his arm around him and kissing the top of his head. “I hear you, yeah,” he agrees. “There was some bullshit we had to get through to get here, but at least we’re together now.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he considers them. “We are _ together, _ right?”

Cas lifts his head from where it was resting on his shoulder. “Are we?” Cas asks. “I know we said we’d date until everything felt okay, but we haven’t really talked about it since then.”

“But you feel okay now, right?” Dean checks. “No hard feelings?”

“There’s no hard feelings left on my end, but I already told you that.”

He hears what Cas isn’t saying. Of the two of them, it’s him who hasn’t come right out and said the words, ‘I forgive you.’ 

“Do you think we can’t be a couple until I’m over you lying to me?” Dean asks, making sure his tone helps him come across as curious instead of accusing. 

“You know I’ve never done this before,” Cas answers. “So I don’t know. Can I be your boyfriend if you don’t trust me?”

“I do trust you.”

“But you haven’t forgiven me,” Cas concludes.

But still. “I wanna be with you.”

Cas smiles sadly. “I want to be with you, too. I’ve wanted that since the first time I heard you.”

Even though Cas is trying to put on a brave face, he can tell that he’s still sad about it, and he hates it. He hates knowing that something he’s doing is making Cas sad, even if it is something out of his control. It makes him want to do something to fix it, and because he has no idea what, he goes for the whole honesty thing Sam’s always trying to cram down his throat. 

“The thing is, Cas... I _ want _ to forgive you, I just don’t know how to get there.” He wets his lips, and asks, “How’d you do it so fast?”

“I guess it came down to what it meant for me to really _ forgive,” _ Cas starts. When Dean just stares at him blankly, Cas takes his hand and slips his fingers between Dean’s. Whether or not Cas knows that it calms him, helps him to feel _ together _ despite the conversation, he isn’t sure. “Well, just because I forgave you, that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what you said or how I felt afterwards. It also doesn’t mean that I’m excusing the way you treated me, or that I suddenly thought it was okay, or that I’ll never be mad or upset about it again in the future. I knew there were still things to work out between us—like the possessive language and behavior, for example—that stemmed from what happened.” Dean nods, understanding all of that. “So for me, forgiving you really came down to me acknowledging the reality of what happened, accepting that there’s nothing I can do to change it moving forward, and understanding that at the end of the day, it didn’t make me want to stop being with you. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me and that you’ll never speak to me like that again, and that was enough for me to forgive you.”

He lets that sink in, wondering why he thought all this time if he said he forgave Cas that it meant he was saying he wasn’t mad anymore, or that what Cas did was okay. “So you think I can forgive you and still think it was a dick move to lie to me for two weeks?”

“Only you know the answer to that,” Castiel replies. _ “Can _ you?” 

Dean shrugs, totally clueless. He has no idea. He feels like they’re together, like they’re a couple now, but at the same time, he does still have that little twinge inside of him whenever he thinks about what Cas did to him. Does he have to be able to let that go completely in order to say he’s _ with _ Cas?

“What if we look at it in a different way?” Cas suggests. “Let’s say I broke something—like a glass, okay? I broke it, and I’m so, so sorry, because even though I knew it might get broken, I thought trying to... make it... shinier would be worth it in the end.” He frowns when he realizes Cas is comparing the shinier glass to a happier him, but nods his understanding nonetheless. “But regardless of what I was trying to do, the glass is still shattered. Would you forgive me for breaking it even though—”

“Forgiving you doesn’t fix the glass,” Dean finishes. Putting it that way, it seems dumb to hold a grudge when it doesn’t change anything. He’s with Cas _ and _ he’s happier than he’s ever been without him. “So what’s the point in carrying around a broken glass when you can just choose another one and start over?”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to frown, and he doesn’t understand why until Cas fails miserably at attempting a joke. “As long as you’re not coming to the conclusion that I’m the glass you should throw away and start over with somebody new, I think we might be on the same page.”

“There ain’t gonna be somebody new ever,” Dean promises. “What we had before, the fucked up not really friends but not really together thing? _ That’s _ the broken glass,” he decides. “Starting over is like what we did when we took a week off, talked it out, and started dating.” 

“That makes a weird sort of sense,” Cas nods. “I guess all you have to figure out now is if you forgive me for breaking what we started with.”

He has to look away from Cas’s sad blue eyes, knowing that if he looks right at him he’ll say he forgives him even if he doesn’t feel it just to make him happy, and that won’t fix a damn thing between them. It’s when he’s gazing out over the city that he realizes if he uses Cas’s definition of forgiveness—acknowledging what happened, accepting that he can’t change it, and agreeing not to forget what Cas did or how it made him feel—he already _ has _ forgiven Cas. As much as it kills him, he’s accepted that he can’t get those two weeks back. He hasn’t forgotten that Cas lied to him, but he’s 100% sure that Cas won’t do it again, not about anything. And like Cas said, at the end of the day, he wants to be with Cas regardless of their shaky start.

“All’s well that ends well to end up with you,” he says quietly, really feeling it now. He turns back to Cas, and when he sees the cautiously optimistic look in his eyes, he smiles and reaches over to stroke his cheek. “I forgive you, Cas. Thanks for helping me work my way through it.”

“Dean,” Cas says brokenly, and then Cas buries his face in his neck. 

Cas’s shoulders shake with his silent sobs, and Dean puts his guitar down so he can wrap both arms around him to hold him close. “Hey, it’s okay,” Dean soothes him, running his hands up and down Cas’s back and dropping kiss after kiss to his hair until his breathing levels out several minutes later. He didn’t realize this had been bothering Cas so much, but Cas wouldn’t be reacting so strongly if it wasn’t. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Everything’s good, right?”

“I’m sorry.” Cas’s voice is muffled because he’s pressed so closely into the space beneath his chin. “A part of me wondered if you’d ever...” Cas’s voice cuts off and he can feel the rise of his shoulders as he takes in a deep breath. Cas sits up so that Dean can see his tear-streaked face, and he’s wiping them away and cleaning that gorgeous face with his thumbs before he even realizes what he’s doing. Cas takes his hand and places a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb, and Dean’s breath catches as he gazes back into Cas’s beautiful blue eyes, still shining with emotion. “I’m still not sure I deserve your forgiveness, but it means more to me than I’ll ever be able to say. Thank you.”

“C’mere,” Dean says, urging him in by the back of his neck until their lips come together. He pours all of the relief, all of the forgiveness, and all of the love he’s starting to feel for Cas into it, and it turns into a surprisingly intense kiss when Cas seems to match everything ounce for ounce. It leaves them both breathless and heavy-lidded by the time they pull away, and when his heart _ thuds _ in his chest at the sight, he speaks before he thinks. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Cas.” Cas’s forehead rests against his, and his eyes close. If it weren’t for the soft smile turning his lips up at the corner, he’d be worried, but because of it, he gets the feeling Cas is just soaking up the moment. It makes his heart swell and gives him the confidence to take away the qualifier from before. “I _ am _ falling in love with you,” he says again, more steadily this time.

“I loved you before I ever met you,” Cas whispers. Now it’s his turn to smile, and unlike Cas, his is big and goofy and appears around an excited breath of laughter. It _ was _ love he saw in his eyes earlier. “I fell in love with your voice, with your mind, with your sense of humor and love of pie, and now I’m falling in love with the person you are, too. It’s always been you, Dean.”

He hopes his hoarse voice and glistening eyes soften his reply. “You smooth son of a bitch.”

Cas lets out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, and that sets them _ both _ off laughing through a tight and lingering hug. They wind up sitting together, Dean’s arm around Cas and Cas’s head on his shoulder, while Cas points out the people he sees walking below. Together, they make up stories about them, the same way Cas told him he did not so long ago.

Between people, Dean tells him, “You know, the first time we were out here, I noticed this seat was barely big enough for two and was basically burning with jealousy thinkin’ about you sitting here with somebody who wasn’t me.”

“Meanwhile, I’ve only ever thought about sharing moments like this with you.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that at the time,” Dean reminds him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Cas says for what has to be the one hundredth time.

This time, though, he can elbow him lightly. “I said I forgave you, remember?” Cas rolls his eyes, and he says something he’s been thinking for a while but has been too chicken to say. “You know what’s funny about the whole thing?”

“Nothing?” Cas says, his voice tight and letting Dean know how much he doesn’t want to talk about this again. 

“No, listen,” Dean urges him. “The whole time, you were dead set that my music was more important to me than my soulmate, and you were right.” Cas looks at him with alarm written all over his face, and he explains. “I barely even gave my soulmate a freaking thought the whole time we were getting to know each other. When I heard him for the first time, I was excited for about three seconds before I saw you in the bookstore and forgot all about him. So in a way, you were right. I did care about my music more than my soulmate, I just didn’t care about my music more than _ you.” _

Cas shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Now who’s the smooth son of a bitch?”

Dean tips his head back and cackles, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. “You’re right, that was pretty smooth.”

“Wanna go get drunk and make out on the couch?” Cas asks suddenly.

“One line and you’re plying me with alcohol and throwing yourself at me?” Dean teases.

Cas nods, shrugs a shoulder. “Pretty much.”

Deciding that sounds pretty damn good after the day he had, he says, “I’m in.”

Two hours later, he and Cas aren’t exactly _ drunk, _ but they’ve definitely drank enough beer to have them both undeniably tipsy. He ends up with his guitar out again, and he and Cas fall into a game where Cas says a word, and Dean tries to think of a song that either has that word in it or makes him think of it. They’ve gone through purple (Purple Rain), cat (Stray Cat Strut), sun (Soak Up The Sun), happy (Happy), rain (November Rain), and car (Life Is A Highway) to make a few. Cas almost stumped him with bumblebee, but he played Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations and Cas counted it. They’re both clearly having a good time. Cas is fucking adorable, giggling almost non-stop in that low, cute as hell laugh of his, scrunching up his nose and smiling so big Dean can see his gums. Cas also won’t stop touching him, which he definitely isn’t complaining about, but it’s extremely distracting.

Something gets them talking about books, Dean tells Cas how far he is into the series Cas gave him, and that’s when his guitar is put down for the first time in hours. It works for him, though, because Cas somehow winds up with one leg thrown over his with his hand rubbing back and forth over his chest and down his shoulders like Cas can’t get enough of him. The only downside is that Cas is still trying to carry on a conversation when Dean’s trying not to lose his freaking mind and pin Cas to the couch. 

“Deeeean.”

Apparently he’s not doing all that well with keeping up, considering the whining tone to Cas’s voice. “Sorry, sweetheart. What?”

“I asked how you were feeling about the traffic on your video?”

“Can you call it traffic when there’s only a couple of cars?” Dean wonders. Technically, he’s earned a couple thousand hits. Logically, he knows that’s _ a lot, _ but nothing’s come out of it so it doesn’t really feel that way. “I don’t know. Guess it’s dumb to be disappointed that the video didn’t really take off since it’s one of a billion videos out there.”

“It’s not dumb,” Cas tells him. “Or if it is, I guess I’m dumb, too. I really thought all you’d need to do is post that and people would flock to you like I do every time I hear you sing.”

“Problem is not everybody is programmed into loving every little thing about me like you are,” Dean jokes.

“Good thing,” Cas says lightly. “I’d hate to have to beat people away from you with a stick, but I’d do it if I had to.” Cas punctuates that with a nibbling kiss to his jaw, and with the heel of Cas’s hand currently rubbing over his nipple, he has a hard time keeping his brain on track.

“You stay wrapped around me like this and nobody’ll be able to get close enough anyway.”

“That’s why I’m doing it,” Cas lies, and Dean laughs quietly. Cas sits up suddenly, looking every bit like there should be a little cartoon light bulb lighting up over his head. “We should post that Taylor Swift video.”

Dean laughs. “What? Why? That’s not even my music.”

“But she’s really, really popular, right? So when people search for her song, they might find yours. And if they like what they hear, then maybe they’ll click through to watch your other videos.”

Cas’s eyes are all lit up with excitement, and he’s so damn cute that he can’t help leaning in to draw him into another kiss. He has every intention of keeping it chaste so that they can keep talking, but when Cas hums against his lips and leans into his space even more closely, he opens his mouth and feels that intoxicating jolt of electricity run through him when their tongues meet in the middle. 

His hand lands on Cas’s hip, holding him nice and close while he dives into Cas’s perfectly pliant mouth, forgetting everything except for how he’s damn sure he’s never going to get enough of Cas’s particular taste on his lips. The longer the kiss goes on, the hotter it gets, and somehow, both of his hands end up buried in Cas’s thick hair, trying mindlessly to pull him closer. Like Cas can read his mind, he throws his leg all the way over, never breaking the seal of their lips while he straddles his hips and sinks down into his lap.

The friction of Cas’s unbelievable ass slotting directly onto his rapidly swelling erection is good enough that he has to separate their lips to drag in a much needed breath, but his hands have a mind of their own and slip down to get two glorious handfuls of Cas’s perfect ass. 

“What do you think?” Cas asks him.

“I think your ass is a goddamn work of art, and you should run every day for the rest of your life if that means it’ll stay just like this.”

Cas laughs and leans in to kiss him again quickly, shifting enough in his lap in the process that his breath catches when Cas rubs up against him. “Thank you for the selfless encouragement, but I meant about posting the video.”

Dean tips his head back with a groan of frustration. “If you’re still thinkin’ about that, I’m clearly not doing something as well as you are.”

“You should know by now that I’m tenacious when there’s something I want, and there is nothing I want more than to see you succeed at what makes you happy,” Cas tells him.

Dean gives Cas’s ass another squeeze, gently urging him down to grind against his cock, sending what feels like rivers of lava through his veins. “There are _ so many _ things I want more than that right now.”

Cas smiles down at him like he knows exactly how much Dean wants him, and seeing the guy who was so nervous to be in the shower with him only a few hours ago now being confident enough to use that against him is sexy as hell. 

“Tit for tat?” Cas suggests.

Dean arches his eyebrows, but slides his hands up and over Cas’s chest, brushing his thumbs over his nipples until they’re standing at attention. He grins devilishly and leans in to take one hardened nub between his teeth through his shirt, making Cas squirm deliciously in his lap before he pushes him away lightly.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Cas says through his laughter.

Still pleased with himself, Dean says, “I don’t think it’s gonna work, but I’ll post it if you want me to.”

“If _ you _ want to,” Cas corrects. “This is your career.”

Dean shrugs. “It’s not gonna hurt anything. Gimme your phone.” Cas hands it over, Dean logs into his YouTube channel, uploads the video, and hits post all while Cas stays on his lap with his hands looped around his neck and his fingers stroking through the hair at the base of his skull. He tosses Cas’s phone carelessly onto the couch cushion next to him, gets his hands back on Cas’s ass where he’s convinced they belong, and says, “Now gimme me some sugar.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Cas says, voice low and seductive.

Their lips smash together completely without grace, and right off the bat, it’s hotter and more purposeful than any of their other kisses since they left the bedroom. He gives himself over to it, knowing this was inevitable from the moment they opened their first beers, and lets Cas take the lead licking into his mouth and running his hands over his shoulders and chest, into his hair, and down the dip of his lower back. Cas’s touches have lost some of their earlier hesitancy, and it warms his heart to know Cas is starting to feel more comfortable, more sure of the things he can do to him with just his hands and his mouth.

And he sure as shit shouldn’t let his mind wander down _ that _ path.

“C-can I...?” Cas asks against his lips. Dean doesn’t have time to answer before Cas catches his lips again and shifts in Dean’s lap, starting to rock back and forth on top of him. This at least, he seems unsure about, and it’s easy to tell in the way he doesn’t quite settle into a rhythm on his own. 

“Hey,” he says gently, coiling his fingers around Cas’s wrists. “We don’t have to do this again.”

Cas looks confused. He rolls his hips down onto the now very obvious hard-on Dean’s got going on, and says, “I know you want to.”

“Just cool your jets for a second, okay?” he says gently. He reaches up to brush his fingers through Cas’s messy locks, smiling softly at how it’s even more fucked up than usual. “I don’t want you to feel like we gotta be in each other’s pants three times a day just because we’re alone.”

“Dean,” Cas says, shaking his head fondly. “You are a very good man, and I consider myself extremely lucky to have a soulmate like you. But I think you might be forgetting that I’m almost thirty and have upwards of _ ten years _worth of mutual orgasms to make up for.”

“Okay, I hear you,” Dean chuckles. “I just don’t want you to think that we have to just because we can. Especially after what happened in the shower earlier. ”

“You mean how I told you I think about us having sex sometimes and you...?”

“Blew my load faster than Joe Goldberg?” Dean finishes for him, hyper aware of how warm his cheeks feel. “Yeah, that.” 

Cas smiles down at him, affection beaming from his blue eyes. “I’ve known that the thought of taking my virginity appeals to you since the first night I told you that I was waiting for my soulmate. You’ve never been very subtle about it.” He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, stops, then ultimately continues. “I said it on purpose. To turn you on.”

_ Shit, _that shouldn’t be hot. “So it doesn’t bother you?”

“As long as you know me admitting to thinking about it sometimes doesn’t mean it’s going to happen right away, I don’t see any harm in it.”

“No pressure,” Dean promises. “There’s so many things I want to show you before we get there, and we’ve got forever, right?”

“Mmmm,” Cas hums happily, starting to roll his hips again. “I do like the way that sounds.”

Dean runs his hands through Cas’s hair and down his shoulders, back, and onto his mouth watering hips. He wants to grab on and help him move better, but he doesn’t want to make him feel like he’s doing anything wrong. “Forever with you sounds pretty damn good.”

“As long as I keep running,” Cas jokes. “How hard was it to keep your hands to yourself the first time I sat on you like this?” Cas asks, already starting to get breathless.

Dean’s blood heats up just from the reminder. “I should’ve won a goddamn _ award _ for that,” he deadpans. Cas laughs, looking adorably pleased with himself, and he decides to keep talking while Cas works on finding a rhythm. “You fit in my lap like a dream, and watching you getting so turned on just from touching my shoulders and chest had me hard enough to hammer nails.”

“I thought about you after you left that night,” Cas admits quietly. “I thought about how you were looking at me, how it made me feel, how unbelievably hot it was when you called me sweetheart.”

Dean runs his hands up Cas’s thighs, noticing for the first time how muscular they are. “I thought about you, too. I thought about you so many damn times, Cas, and nothing even comes close to how good it really is with you.”

Cas shakes his head, like he can’t quite believe it. “I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“Teaching you is half the fun,” Dean assures him, inching his thumbs closer and closer to where Cas’s cock is clearly coming back to life. Dean kisses back to his ear, running his tongue along the shell before he takes his earlobe between his teeth. “Like this. You’re doin’ so good, Cas, but can I show you how to move to make it feel even better?”

“Yeah.” His body goes still, and Dean has to swallow down the possessive flare that rises up inside of him when he’s reminded how easily Cas gives himself over to him. Every damn time they do something new together it burns inside of him, makes him want to suck a dozen more bruises into Cas’s skin that declare _ that’s mine _ for the world to see. Instead, he makes sure to keep his touch soft and the pace slow when he gets his hands back on Cas’s hips, helping Cas to move so that Cas’s ass is nestled close to the base of his cock and Cas’s crotch is angled down against his own. 

Now, when Cas follows his lead and starts lifting his hips in a slow roll, they both feel the friction of their dicks pressed together _ and _ of Dean’s dick against Cas’s ass. He knows it feels so much better for them both when Cas’s breath hitches and he starts to take over on his own instead of having Dean set the pace. 

“Fuck yes, just like that. Feels so good,” Dean praises him.

With Cas now moving on his own, Dean lets his eyes skirt up the shape of Cas’s body to drink in the sight of his gorgeous face. And god, is he pretty when he’s turned on with his cheeks tinged rosy pink, his teeth sunk into his lower lip, and his eyes heavily lidded. Their eyes hold a heated gaze for several seconds before he breaks it, cups Cas’s face in his hands and pulls him down to meet his lips. He sucks Cas’s bottom lip into his mouth, soothing the teeth marks with a swish of his tongue that meets Cas’s when it joins the party, and he gladly slides their tongues together in a drawn-out but still scalding hot kiss. 

They go on like that for a few minutes, kissing hot and heavy between panting breaths and groping hands until Cas’s hands slip down his chest to the hem of his shirt. Cas starts to tug it up, and while he is _ fully _ on board with this development, he stops kissing him long enough to ask, “You wanna do this out here?”

“Yes.”

Cas sounds sure, so Dean arches his back to give Cas some space to pull his shirt up and off. He goes for Cas’s as soon as his is over his head, and the view gets 100% better when he can take in how good Cas’s firm chest and sinewy arms look as Cas braces himself on his shoulders. Skin to skin always makes things better, and neither of them are shy about touching the other’s body while their lips seal back together. He loses himself in vast sweeps of palms over warm skin, fingers clutching and clenching around biceps, shoulders, and hips, chests bumping together and nipples bare and peaked with pleasure. 

“Dean?” Cas’s shoulders are heaving when he pulls away, and when Dean tries to meet his gaze, Cas keeps his eyes carefully lowered. “Can I tell you something?”

_ Now? _ That’s his dick talking though, so he gives his head a little shake and focuses on the man he’s in love with instead of the urge to thrust up against him again. 

“Yeah, of course.”

“I... I think I like it better when you’re the one in the lead.”

Dean’s insides clench with an onslaught of desire, but he tries to hide it with a playful grin, getting his hands firmly on Cas’s hips, and flipping him so that Cas lands sitting up with his back to the couch. He’s not quite as smooth as he hoped, because he loses his balance and winds up down on one knee on the floor. They both laugh, but when Dean realizes he’s literally on his knees between Cas’s legs, his mind goes straight to the gutter.

He slides his hands up Cas’s thighs again, purposely looking straight down at Cas’s cock before flicking his eyes up to Cas’s and wetting his lips. 

“How do you feel about me sucking your dick?”

Cas’s eyelids flutter closed and he can literally see his blush as it starts to creep down his neck and onto his chest. “Enthusiastic,” he croaks. Dean grins, remembering himself answering the same way about staying over here tonight.

“Yeah?” Dean checks, getting a nod in response. “Damn, Cas. You’re in for a fucking treat. As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure,” Cas rasps out, and Dean smiles as he curls his fingers into the waistband of Cas’s pajama pants. 

“Lift,” he orders gently, and Cas does. Dean carefully peels the stretchy cotton down Cas’s hips and over his erection, then off one leg at a time until he can discard them entirely. He skirts his hands back up over Cas’s now bare legs, making himself comfortable on his knees between them. “You can ask me to stop anytime, okay? I’ll go nice and slow so it’s not too overwhelming, but if you need me to slow down even more, just say the word.” Cas nods again, and Dean applies a little bit of pressure to the inside of his knees, feeling his heart leap with excitement when Cas lets his legs fall open easily. 

“That’s perfect.” His attention is drawn to the prize laid out in front of him after that, Cas’s cock standing tall and completely hard, and he licks his lips again when he thinks about getting a taste. “Damn, you’ve got a nice cock.”

First things first though, he skims his palms up Cas’s legs until they reach his hips, and then he tugs, pulling Cas down further in his seat and (not coincidentally) closer to his mouth. Cas lets out a sharp gasp in surprise and curls his fingers around the couch cushions on either side of him like he’s holding on for dear life. 

Dean sweeps his thumbs along the divets of Cas’s hips to try to soothe him before he leans in, and he hasn’t even gotten his lips on Cas’s skin yet when he hears that Cas’s breath has started to come out in short, quick blasts. Instead of going right for the sensitive head the way he wants to, he starts slow the way he promised he would. This is Cas’s first blow job, he knows from personal experience how likely it is that Cas is gonna blow early, and Dean’s much too selfish for that. He’s been thinking about this since the moment he heard Cas has never gotten head, and he knows _ exactly _ how he plans to draw it out so they both can enjoy it as much as possible. 

He curls his fingers around Cas’s shaft to tilt it to the side and lowers his mouth to the base of Cas’s cock to place a lingering, wet kiss just above the line of his (thankfully) trimmed short, wiry dark hair. Cas doesn’t have much of a scent to him since they just showered a few hours ago, but Dean inhales greedily anyway, seeking the indescribable musk of arousal through the clean scent of soap. He moves slowly, kissing his way around the base and leisurely stroking him, letting Cas get used to the sensation before he starts mouthing at his balls.

He lets his tongue slip out for a lick here and there, feeling his own cock throbbing desperately from every breathless little sound Cas lets out. He finds the seam between Cas’s heavy testicles and runs his tongue along the length of his sack. Once he reaches the bottom, he applies suction and flicks the tip of his tongue against the sensitive flesh between his lips. Since that solicits a broken gasp, he opens his mouth wider until one of Cas’s balls falls into his mouth, and a strangled groan has him flicking his eyes up to see Cas with his jaw unhinged and his blue eyes wide with wonder but laser-focused on the sight of his balls in Dean’s mouth. 

Eye contact seems to make Cas’s breath get caught in his lungs all over again, and Cas sounds so goddamn pretty like this that Dean’s not surprised his cock gives a sympathetic little twitch. He keeps their eyes locked as he releases Cas’s balls and licks a long, languid path from the base of his cock all the way to the head. 

Cas’s eyes slam closed, and he stutters, “O-oh g-god,” at the same time Dean hears the squeaking sound of the leather clenching between Cas’s fingers. 

Knowing Cas is into it has Dean letting out a quiet sound of his own, wanting Cas to know he’s enjoying this every bit as much as he is. Their eyes meet again, pleasure making Cas’s pupils wide and his usually bright eyes dark and sexy as hell, prompting Dean to move this along faster than he meant to. Anticipation sends excitement through him like electricity as he kisses and suckles his way up Cas’s shaft where he licks a broad, wet stripe across the beaded pre-cum oozing out of his slit. 

“Ffffuck,” Cas rasps. “Dean, _ god.” _

Dean makes a show out of sticking his tongue out as if he can show off the fluid he’s collected before he swallows it down with a moan of appreciation. “‘s good, Cas. Ya know, I think I’m loving this as much as you.”  
  
“I-I _ really _ doubt that,” Cas wheezes.

Dean smiles seductively and gets right back down to business, starting a new path from the tip to the base and back up again with a mix of tongue and spit-sloppy lips, arousal burning hotter low in his stomach with every single sound he wrings out of the man above him. Cas’s legs twitch and shudder each time he gets closer to the head, but it’s not until he’s swirling his tongue around it like a melting ice cream cone on a hot day that Cas finally does what he’s been waiting for all along and _ begs. _

“D-Dean. Dean, please,” Cas whines.

_ Son of a bitch. _There isn’t a damn thing that he wouldn’t do just to hear that low, rumbling voice begging so fucking pretty for it again and again until Cas is so desperate that he breaks completely and just fucks his mouth like a madman. 

“Hmm?” Dean asks, feigning innocence. 

“Please—Dean, s-stop teasing me!”

Because he feels a little bit of guilt alongside the burning desire inside of him, he flicks his tongue against Cas’s frenulum. Cas throws his head back and moans, long and loud and so fucking sexy Dean’s got his own hand down his pants and stroking his cock before he’s even realized he’s doing it. That’s the moment he loses any and all hope of drawing this out, and they both get what they want a second later when Dean _ finally _ wraps his lips around Cas’s cock and sucks the crown into his mouth.

The broken cry Cas lets out is music to his goddamn ears and now it’s his turn to moan as he starts to sink down on Cas’s length. Jesus christ he’s missed this—the burning stretch of the corners of his mouth, the weight of a decent-sized cock resting on his tongue, the subtle throbbing of the hot flesh in his mouth letting him know without a doubt that he’s making Cas feel as good as he deserves to feel—and he keeps right on moaning his appreciation all the way down until he has to relax his throat to be able to take all of Cas in until he’s buried to the root. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Cas babbles, a constant stream of profanity said so emphatically that there isn’t room for a breath in between each one. He opens his eyes to get a look at the heated reverence written all over Cas’s face before he gags and has to pull off to catch his breath. 

He clears his throat and shoots Cas a lop-sided smile. “Been a while, but shit, Cas.” He glances down at where his own dick is out, deep red and leaking steadily. “It’s so fucking hot to hear you lose it, I—”

Cas’s eyes going as big as saucers stops him mid-sentence. “Y-you’re—are you touching yourself while you...?”

“With all those sexy sounds you keep making, letting me know how good you feel? Fuckin’ right I’m touching myself.”

“Holy shit,” Cas says through a heavy breath. “That’s... incredibly hot.” 

“Now you know what you do to me, so don’t hold back on me, okay, sweetheart? At this rate, I’m gonna blow before you.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Cas deadpans.

Dean grins before he licks his lips laviously and gets back to work. “Watch me.” He pauses half way down and says, “You can put your hands on me if you want. Touch my face, my hair. Hell, give it a tug if you want to.” He shrugs a shoulder and adds, “I kinda like that.”

Cas nods shakily but manages, “O-okay.”

He lowers his head close enough that Cas can probably feel his breath hot on his skin, then lifts his eyes and waits. He smiles genuinely when Cas cups his face, and excitement pumps through him all over again. He keeps waiting right where he is, arching his brows to give Cas a silent _ go ahead, _ and the excitement from only a moment ago goes up in flames when Cas guides him towards his cock. He lets the damp tip nudge his lips, glossing them with Cas’s precum and making Cas’s breath catch. Only then does Dean open his mouth and eagerly suck Cas down, twisting and twirling his tongue along the head of Cas’s cock every time he pulls up to reward him at the same time he really starts jerking his own cock. 

Cas’s fingers tighten on his jaw whenever he does something right, and Cas’s cues along with the litany of delicious sounds he lets out has Dean playing him like a fiddle _ and _ fearing he’s going to come before Cas does. Cas just sounds so fucking hot in the throes of passion, and knowing that he’s the one who’s making Cas feel so good has blood boiling in his veins like lava and his cock so fucking hard he feels like he’s going to _ burst _ before Cas. 

He knows how to fix that though. 

Without warning, he sinks down and takes Cas into the hilt, making sure to get him nice and wet before he pulls up and starts bobbing his head in a quick rhythm. Cas’s hand falls onto the back of his neck, not pushing or guiding at all, just a comforting, steady weight. 

Dean longs for the day Cas loses some of his nerves and some of the wonder, enough so that he takes what he wants without question, holding Dean’s head in place and fucking wildly into his mouth. He moans around Cas just thinking about it, and the sudden and overwhelming craving for a good face fucking has him pulling out every trick in the book he knows to get Cas there right the fuck now. 

He speeds up, starts firmly pressing his tongue to the underside of Cas’s cock on his way up, and flicks his tongue over the tip each time he gets there, pulling a sinful sounding moan from his soulmate. 

“Ungh._ Unghh _ godddd Dean. Dean, _ Dean.” _

Dean does it all over twice, and right before he sinks down to take him in a third time, he sucks_—hard. _

Cas’s fingers slide into his hair and pull, sending shockwaves of pleasure through him, and Dean’s suddenly, undeniably, so _ dangerously _ close to the edge that he releases his cock with a sharp breath. Thankfully, judging by the increasing breathlessness to each sound Cas makes, the tiny little whimpers he just hears over the slick sound of his mouth sucking cock, and the way Cas’s fingers are twitching in Dean’s hair, Cas is close, too. A particularly deft twist of his tongue around Cas’s crown gets another tug of his hair, and this time, he hums purposely to encourage him.

That’s all it takes. 

Cas forgets to be careful, pushes him down until Dean’s damn near impaled on his cock, and the second he flicks his eyes up to Cas and tries to smile with a cock down his throat, Cas’s eyes squeeze closed and he comes with a guttural shout that Dean will remember to his dying day.

Cas’s fingers _ yank _ on his hair to pull him up and off, but Dean knocks his hands away and creates an air-tight seal around him instead, moaning at the first bitter splash across his tongue. He sucks harder than ever, greedily drawing out spurt after spurt of watery, salty cum that he swallows down with another moan.

“Ohhhh! Oh, you’re—you’re—_fuck! _ Oh! Oh—fuck Dean! Fucccck.”

Cas’s hips twitch feebly as he leaks onto Dean’s tongue until he’s completely spent, and even then Dean doesn’t want to stop sucking his softening cock. He keeps Cas in his mouth, suckling gently for every drop of liquid evidence of Cas’s pleasure he can get until Cas is whimpering and writhing with oversensitivity, and his hands finally push weakly at Dean’s shoulders to make him stop.

He leans back on his heels and wipes at the mixture of cum and saliva coating his chin, smiling lewdly as he takes in the erotic sight of Cas sagged back against the couch, his breathing ragged and harsh, his face flushed and sweaty and goddamn _ gorgeous. _

He doesn’t even think about it when he wraps his hand around his cock and starts stroking hard and fast, dragging his eyes up and down Cas’s body, finally focusing on where Cas’s still plump cock is resting on his stomach. His dick twitches in his palm when he sees he sucked him so dry there’s not even a drop of cum left to dribble out onto his skin. Cas’s belly is heaving with the need for a good breath, his chest is flushed and his thighs are _ still _ trembling, and Dean feels lust and pride and possessiveness race through him knowing that _ he’s _ the one who made Cas look like that—that he’s the _ only one _ who will _ ever _ make Cas look like that—and all it takes is one tight squeeze to his cockhead and he’s coming, too. 

His muscles seize with the intensity of his orgasm, he folds over and face plants on Cas’s strong thigh while he shoots over his hand, onto the floor, and along the front of the couch. He can hear Cas’s breath catch again and then feels Cas’s fingers brushing through his hair and stroking down the back of his neck until he’s worked himself through it completely.

He collapses forwards entirely, bringing both arms up to wrap around Cas’s lower back to keep himself anchored, and breathes in the delicious scent of Cas’s cum and sweat, feeling a weak smile tug at his lips at the evidence of a job well-done.

His knees are aching now that the adrenaline is starting to fade, but he still can’t think clearly enough to string words together let alone consider how to move his legs, so he lies there, drifting in bliss until Cas breaks the silence between them what could very well be years later for all he knows.

“It’s bad form to make a love confession after a blow job, right?” Cas asks. 

His heart lurches, but he can tell by the tone of Cas’s voice he’s not being totally serious. “Depends on how good the blow job is.”

“I think you sucked my brains out. I might never be able to form a coherent thought again.”

Dean snorts out a laugh, and finally lifts his head enough to aim an exhausted but fond smile up at his soulmate. “Right back at ch’ya, sweetheart.”

When Cas cups his face again and applies enough pressure to let him know he wants a kiss, Dean struggles to get back up to his knees and slots their lips together. The quiet, happy sound Cas makes is enough to deem the extra effort worth it, and even though his knees are _ killing him, _ he stays up on them until Cas pulls away and kisses his forehead. 

“Thank you for being so good to me,” Cas whispers. And yeah, if the way his heart turns to a puddle of mush in his chest from less than ten words is any kind of clue, he’s helplessly in love with the fucker. 

He doesn’t have time to linger on that now, though, because he’s gotta man up and carry Cas to the bedroom before he falls asleep at his feet. Not that it’s a bad place to be or anything, but he’s already decided nothing’s better than having Cas in his arms. 


	15. Chapter 15

Not for the first time, Castiel wakes up Saturday morning in Dean’s arms, absolutely certain that there’s nothing better in the whole entire world. Dean must have made himself the big spoon at some point after they finally stopped talking long enough to fall asleep well into the morning, because Dean’s wrapped around him from behind. His arms feel strong and comforting even though they’re completely lax in his sleep, his chest is firm and warm, and the soft swell of his belly is pillowed against Castiel’s lower back. He lies there without moving for a long time, just soaking up the feeling of having Dean there to wake up with. It isn’t until Castiel reaches for his phone to see what time it is and snuggles back against Dean that he feels what he knows is his erection poking into his butt cheek, and he realizes they’ve both woken up with hard-ons. 

Considering they each had three orgasms over the last twenty-four hours, he’s a little amused at the eagerness of their dicks, but he supposes they don’t really have much control over these things while they’re sleeping.

He’s comfortable despite the burning length pressed against his ass, so he stays in bed and checks his social media while Dean sleeps on behind him. Dean has a dozen comments on the Taylor Swift video, and he’s amused to find how many of the usernames he recognizes already. Because he had read some of the names out loud to Dean when he was reading his first comments, some of those have stuck with him. 

After Dean posted his first video, Charlie posted the link on Twitter and tagged both he and Dean in it, and he gained more than a hundred new followers in a few hours. He sees that a few of them have Tweeted out the Taylor Swift video since they’ve tagged him in it (even though he wasn’t in it this time) along with Taylor Swift herself, and he makes sure to go through each of his notifications to thank them for their support and helping getting Dean’s music out there. One of the Tweets from lisafrankenstn includes the video, praises Dean’s voice, _ and _ tells people to check out his original music, too, and so it’s that one that he ReTweets for his followers to see after he adds the link to Dean’s YouTube channel.

He smiles when he sees people RTing and liking it right away, and makes sure to like those, too, hoping that however minimal it may be, his praise towards Dean’s fans for sharing his music will encourage them to share it more. He bursts into laughter when he clicks on lisafranenstn’s page and sees her basically key smashing in response to him RTing her post, and that’s what seems to wake Dean from the dead.

“Mornin’,” Dean mumbles. 

And when the arm slung around him slides slowly but purposely down between his legs where he’s still half-hard, his eyes slip closed and he forgets all about the internet in favor of what winds up being a pair of lazy, drawn-out, incredibly sweet hand jobs. He’s not nervous at all when they share a shower afterwards, and because he’s a terrible boyfriend and forgot to get coffee for Dean, he treats Dean to breakfast out at the Roadhouse. They have a good time chatting with Jo and Ellen between customers and lingering over their food and Dean’s multiple cups of coffee, and the rest of the day is just as easy. 

Just as _ right. _

They spend the whole day together, deciding to skip lunch to have an early dinner instead. They work together in the kitchen, Castiel prepping a couple of beef kabobs to go with baked potatoes and asparagus Dean insists he can cook on the tiny grill he has on his balcony, and Dean making a pie for dessert. The kitchen is the smallest space in his house, and when he thought it would be crowded and annoying to try to share it, it’s actually fine. They crash a few times, but with the way they both keep placing their hands on the other to maneuver them out of the way after that, it’s nice. Homey. Domestic. 

That feeling stays all through the actual cooking and the meal they share out on the balcony, and when they snuggle up together to watch a few more episodes of You. He hadn’t thought to extend his original invitation for Dean to stay through tonight, too, but based on how the day’s going, he doesn’t think Dean would be against staying over again. 

“Do you want to stay again tonight?”

Dean presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I might’ve packed enough clothes for both days just in case.”

That has him snuggling in even closer, and he’s smiling when he says, “You’re so smart.”

“More like optimistic,” Dean replies. “After today, I was gonna ask if you didn’t.”

“I like sleeping with you,” Castiel tells him. “I’m okay with you staying over as often as you want to.”

Dean makes a sound low in his throat that he takes to mean Dean doesn’t quite believe that. “Just tell me to back off if you start feeling like I’m smothering you, okay?”

Castiel has his doubts about that ever happening, but he wants to ease Dean’s conscience anyway. “I’ll tell you if I need to.”

They fall into silence again to finish watching their show, and considering how late they were up last night, he’s not surprised that his eyelids start drooping around ten. 

“Let’s get you into bed, sleepy head,” Dean tells him. 

Although he doesn’t get carried to his bedroom like last night, walking there hand-in-hand with Dean isn’t a bad consolation prize. He goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth, but unlike last night, Dean pushes open the door he left ajar and joins him this time. The last few days have been a whirlwind of learning experiences, and it’s no different when he discovers the same kind of domesticity he’d felt in the kitchen now that they’re brushing their teeth together. 

It makes him feel like he’s floating by the time they climb into bed together, and the many, many, many soft, lingering kisses they share before Dean pulls away only enhances the feeling.

“You’re tired, huh?” Dean asks him.

Dean’s running his fingers through his hair, and as he feels his whole body go boneless as he melts into the mattress, he imagines this is what it feels like to be a fat, contented house cat. “I’m exhausted.”

“My little old man,” Dean teases fondly, kissing him yet again, but between his eyebrows this time. “I’ve got a song spinning in my head. Would it keep you up if I play? I can go out to the living room.”

“No, stay here,” Castiel tells him. “I’m used to falling asleep to the sound of you working on songs. I don’t mind.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Dean brushes their lips together once more, and then Castiel curls up on his side and watches Dean walk out to the living room, presumably to grab his guitar. Sure enough, he comes back with it and sits on the edge of the bed with his cell phone next to him. Castiel is tired, but he’s also anxious to _ watch _ Dean do what he’s heard him do so many times in his head. His eyelids drift closed, but he listens closely to the couple of notes Dean plucks out before he turns them into a few chords. It changes little by little, and after listening for a few minutes, he realizes it’s Dean’s quiet humming that’s leading the way. He hums a tune, then plays it out on his guitar, does it over a few times until the music matches his voice perfectly, then he records it on his phone. 

He’s almost asleep when Dean starts adding words, and the sound of his voice has Castiel opening his eyes only to see Dean looking over at him and smiling almost shyly as he sings.   
  
_“I could spend forever  
_ _ Doing nothing with you”_

His heart positively _ melts. _ There’s something almost surreal about being in the same room as Dean as he’s writing, knowing that Dean is comfortable enough to work like this in front of him, and the icing on top of a wonderful day is that he just got confirmation in the best way imaginable that Dean enjoyed their lazy day together as much as he did. 

As tired as he is, it turns out it’s harder than he thought it would be to fall asleep when every time Dean says something new it makes his insides feel like melting butter. Dean’s clearly still piecing the song together, but he hears other snippets of lyrics that sound like _kissing in the kitchen,_ _toasting the sun,_ and _the smell of fresh-cut grass,_ and he’s almost positive Dean’s writing about their week. 

He’s tired enough that he thought he’d drift off eventually, but he doesn’t. He lies with his eyes closed somewhere in between until Dean packs up his guitar and gets in on his side of the bed. Dean pulls him into his arms, and once they’re settled in and nice and comfortable, Dean whispers, “Thought you said I wouldn’t keep you up?”

“You didn’t,” he lies. 

“Sure I didn’t,” Dean says through a quiet laugh. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.” Castiel tilts his head up for a kiss and makes a happy little noise when Dean kisses him oh so gently, like he’s the most precious thing in the world. Dean’s hand is already brushing through his hair again before their lips part, and it’s probably due to the combination of over exhaustion and Dean’s comforting touch that he speaks without thinking first.

“Do you really think about spending forever with me?”

Dean’s hand pauses with his fingers still buried in his hair. It only lasts a second until he starts moving again, brushing rhythmically from the crown down to the base of his hairline before he starts over. “I did today.”

Castiel feels happiness fill him up like air in a balloon, but he’s so tired all he can think of to say back is a quiet, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dean repeats. 

The way Dean says even that one word is steady and reassuring, and it helps pull him into a deeper sleep. He’s fully aware that he’s teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, but he’s almost positive Dean says one more thing before he goes completely under. “I could spend forever just like this.”

He wakes up to the sensation of pillow-soft lips kissing along his shoulders and back, and he has a smile on his face before he even opens his eyes. “Good morning, Dean.”

“Mornin’.” Dean wraps his arms around him and covers Castiel’s hand with his before hooking his chin over his shoulder and kissing the corner of his mouth. “Your phone’s been vibrating and lighting up non-stop for the last ten minutes. Even woke _ me.” _

When he opens his eyes, he sees that Dean is absolutely right. He reaches for it with his heart in his throat, thinking that something must have happened to One Page At A Time overnight, but when he expected to see missed phone calls, it’s actually text messages from Charlie that are clogging up his home screen. Twenty of them, all sent within the last ten minutes.  
  
**CHARLIE:** HLAHKGSKOIHALHKJAGGA  
**CHARLIE:** CHECK YOUR TWITTER  
**CHARLIE:** WHERE ARE YOU?  
**CHARLIE:** WHY WON’T EITHER OF YOU ANSWER ME?  
**CHARLIE:** I WILL FIND YOUR ADDRESS AND RIP DEAN OFF YOUR DICK MYSELF IF I HAVE TO  
**CHARLIE:** (But please don't make me because that's waaaay more peen than I want to see)  
**CHARLIE:** CASTIEEELLLLLL

Dean rolls over and grabs his own phone as Castiel continues to read the rest of the messages Charlie sent, which continue to devolve into more key smashing and angry emojis.

“What the hell is she goin’ on about this early?” Dean wonders.

Figuring opening his Twitter account is the best way to find out without listening to Charlie shriek at them before they’ve even brushed their teeth, he taps the app and goes to his notification tab. It’s confusing at first, seeing so many people tagging him, leaving comments, RTing, and liking a post he doesn’t even remember seeing, but when he finally clicks on it and figures out what just happened, he almost drops his phone.

“Dean,” he chokes out, looking over at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“What happened?” Dean asks, sounding concerned.

“Do you have Instagram?”

“Yeah?”

“Open it.”

Dean does, and Castiel watches him carefully when he sees how many notifications he has. “What the hell?” he asks, sitting up and squinting down at his phone in confusion. 

Knowing that what’s about to happen is going to be really, really special, Castiel takes the liberty of turning his phone to video and recording Dean as he starts clicking through the notifications the same way Castiel did himself. “Dude, I have like—a hundred thousand followers? What the fuck happened?” He must click the right notification, because the next thing Castiel is aware of is the sound of Dean’s song, “One Good Reason” filling the air, and on top of it?

Thanks to his Twitter notifications, he knows that voice probably belongs to Taylor Swift. 

“Not only did this guy right here, Dean Winchester, do a killer cover of 'Lover,' his original song 'One Good Reason' has _ the sweetest _ first kiss I have ever seen in my life. Go watch it!”

He watches Dean swipe up, knowing that the link goes directly to his YouTube channel, and the pride he feels inside of him is so impossibly big, so visceral, so _ raw, _ his own eyes are watering.

Dean’s jaw has been hanging open since he started watching, and the smile he aims at Castiel once he realizes what just happened is something Castiel will forever be grateful he got on camera. Dean’s so excited, shocked, and happy all at once that his smile looks like something you’d see on the face of a small child on Christmas morning. Neither of them have even said a word yet, but he stops recording after that and _ launches _ himself at Dean.

He wraps his arms and legs around him, hugging Dean tighter than he’s ever hugged anybody in his life, and when Dean starts laughing breathlessly, real tears spring to his eyes. 

“Holy shit,” Dean whispers through his laughter. “Taylor Fucking Swift.”

Castiel’s voice is hoarse when he tells Dean, “A _hundred_ _thousand_ followers in less than twenty minutes.” Dean squeezes him even tighter, a new burst of laughter rolling out of him, and Castiel has never been more happy or more proud in his entire life as he is in this moment. “I knew it. I _knew_ you could do this, that you had it in you. So many people are going to hear your music now, Dean, and they’re going to love it just as much as Taylor Fucking Swift does.”

Dean buries his face in his neck and gasps for breath, his shoulders heaving with it, and Castiel just lets him hold on for dear life. The first coherent thing Dean says is, “Cas, I had—I had like, a dozen private messages from people with blue checks in my inbox asking me for my publicist’s information.”

Castiel’s heart swells so fast he’s afraid it might explode. “Music producers,” Castiel guesses, fresh tears filling his eyes. “Or press.”

“Holy fuck,” Dean gasps.

Castiel scooches back until he’s on the bed in front of Dean instead of clinging to him like a koala bear, just so he can look into his eyes to tell him. “You got your music out there. You did it, Dean.”

Dean surges forwards and kisses the air right out of his lungs, forcing him onto his back where they land with a whoosh and more kisses between laughter, and he’s so full of so much love he doesn’t know how he can possibly contain all of it. 

“I’m—I’m _ freaking out,” _ Dean says once they stop laughing, and Castiel can’t help but kiss his smile. “I’m fucking shaking.”

“I would be worried if you weren’t,” he replies. 

“How did this even happen?” Dean wonders, grabbing for his phone again. “How did she see it so fast?”

“That’s a very good question.” Castiel roots around for his own phone, but instead of searching through the hundreds of notifications he has, he hits speaker phone and dials Charlie.

As expected, she answers with what can only be considered as a scream. “FINALLY!”

“Good morning to you too,” Dean says, and Castiel grins over at him.

“How did this happen?” Castiel asks.

“Okay, so thanks to _ years _ of my online creeping skills, I was able to find that Cas has a follower named Lisa Frankenstein.”

“Yeah,” Castiel confirms. “She’s a fan of Dean’s.”

“Well, she’s followed by this news site called Nerds and Beyond. When she ReTweeted that post of yours you Tweeted with Dean’s YouTube page added, it looks like Nerds saw it and then went and retweeted it themselves. They have something like 30,000 followers, and some of them are actors and/or in the entertainment industry. One of _ them _ ReTweeted it, and it started blowing up. Cas’s post from yesterday morning has more than fifty thousand likes on it.”

“Fifty _ thousand?” _ Castiel repeats. 

“Probably more now,” Charlie laughs. “But Swifties started tagging Taylor in the comments, and there were enough of them that I guess she saw it. Congratulations, love doves, you’ve officially gone viral. I’ve already seen dozens of articles posted about you, and if you do a Google search, you’ll probably find hella more. Both the soulmate community and the queer community are losing their shit over your first kiss and how cute you are together.”

“This is insane,” Dean comments. 

“And to think I get to say I knew you before you were famous,” Charlie sighs. 

“Let’s not, uh, count our chickens before they hatch,” Dean says. “I don’t even know if anything’s gonna come out of this.”

“Well, we should go through some of those messages you got from the verified accounts and see who they are and what they want,” Castiel suggests. 

“Now that I’ve finally gotten the good news to you, I’m gonna let you guys figure that out together. If you need anything, you know where to find me!”

“Thanks Charlie,” Castiel says earnestly.

“Seriously,” Dean adds. “Thanks for everything.”

“Anything for my two favorite baby gays. Have fun!”

Both he and Dean are shaking their heads fondly when Castiel ends the call. They’re side by side now, him leaning back against the headboard but Dean sitting straight up (probably because of adrenaline or nerves). Castiel opens Twitter and clicks on his profile, only to see that Charlie was off by ten thousand likes.

“It’s at 60,000 likes and climbing,” he tells Dean.

“Holy _ shit,” _ Dean repeats. Then, “This is all thanks to you, Cas.”

“What? No, it isn’t. It’s _ your _ music.”

“But you did this,” Dean tells him, looking at him like he solved the world’s biggest mystery instead of posting on social media. “You inspired 'One Good Reason.' You asked me to sing 'Lover,' you took the video, you suggested I post it. Hell, you’re even the one who Tweeted out my YouTube page.”

Castiel feels his face grow warm now that Dean’s pointed all of that out. “It’s not like I thought something like this would happen.”

“You did though,” Dean argues, gratitude filling his eyes in a way Castiel has never quite seen before. “You—you believed in me from the beginning. Before you even met me.”

Castiel has no reason to deny that. “Nobody could have heard you as often as I did and not believe in your talent, Dean. I was just the lucky one who had the chance.”

_ “I’m _ the lucky one.” Dean shakes his head again like he still can’t quite believe what’s happening. “Even before all this, I fell asleep last night holding you and thinking I never coulda guessed in a million years how good being with you feels. I know it sounds like something out of a freaking Hallmark card but... I knew I wasn’t happy with my life, but I thought it was because of my job and where I live. But it must’ve been that a piece of me was missing. ‘Cause none of that’s changed but I have you, and I’m—I’m like, burst-out-into-song-walking-down-the-street kinda happy. _ You _ make me so stupidly happy, Cas.” Castiel feels like he’s _ glowing _ with the amount of joy shooting through him right now. “If all I ever have is this apartment and this job and this much money in my bank account, I’d still fall asleep every night feeling like the luckiest guy in the world as long as I have you.”

Castiel lets out a gasping breath through a smile that he’s absolutely sure won’t be leaving his face for a very, very long time. “You’ll always have me,” he promises, reaching out to grasp Dean’s hand. “I hope you know you make me that happy, too. I didn’t know how lonely I was until you came along and showed me what I was missing.”

Dean’s thumb brushes over his knuckles. “I’m glad it was me.”

“I never could have felt this for somebody else.” He aims a sideways smile at Dean when his next thought pops up in his mind. “I was always meant to be yours.” He can see the fire flash in Dean’s eyes before he lowers them to try to bury the mile-wide possessive streak he so very obviously has, and when his immediate thought is how _ hot _ that is instead of a piercing discomfort because of a bad memory, he knows the worst of that is behind them. In fact, he’s sure enough that he wants to try it out. “You can say it if you want to.” 

Dean flicks his eyes back up to catch his. “Say what?”

“What you’re so obviously thinking.” Dean tries to play dumb by looking confused, and he’s amused enough that he _ knows _ Dean’s not being entirely genuine that he leans in to kiss his cheek. “That I’m yours.” He can hear the quiet catch in Dean’s breathing, and his soft smile has turned into a teasing grin when he drops his next kiss to Dean’s lips. “I’m your boyfriend. Your lover. Your soulmate. All yours, Dean.”

Dean groans softly when he chases his lips for another kiss, not nearly as chaste as the last one. No, not with Dean’s tongue parting his lips and sliding insistently against his, not with the way Dean’s fingers push into his hair and hold him in place while Dean ravages his mouth with a searing, claiming kiss. 

When Dean breaks the seal of their lips _ several _ arousing seconds later, it’s with a breathless apology. “Shit, sorry.”

“For?” Castiel asks. 

“I don’t know why I’m so turned on by that. I know you’re not into it.”

“I brought it up,” Castiel reminds him. 

“What you said about being my soulmate, my lover, my boyfriend, that’s all I mean when I say it,” Dean tells him. “I don’t mean that you—I dunno, belong to me or some shit. Your body is yours, and I might get off on marking you up a little, but if you asked me to stop or not to touch you or even not be in your space in a certain way, I’d listen. I know you’re your own person. I just like that you’re my soulmate, too. That nobody else can say that _ but _me.”

That erases what’s left of Castiel’s reservations about that specific issue, and he decides to admit a truth of his own. “I am into it. It turns me on, too. You look really hot when your eyes get all smoldery like that.”

Dean grins playfully, the complete opposite of that sexy smolder he was just talking about, but no less attractive because of it. “You keep talkin’ like this and it’s going to be a _ very _ good morning.”

Castiel laughs and bats him away when Dean's hand starts drifting up the inside of his thighs. “As if it already hasn’t been? What are you even doing trying to come on to me when you have all of those messages in your inbox waiting for you?”

Dean shrugs one shoulder. “Not like they’re going anywhere.”

“Neither am I,” Castiel says simply. “And I’m curious. Come on.”

Dean swoops in for one more kiss, one thorough enough that it almost has Castiel changing his mind and pulling Dean down on top of him. When their lips do come apart though, he can tell just based on the way Dean’s lips are tilted up on one side that that’s exactly what he was going for. He narrows his eyes, reaches over and snatches Dean’s phone off of the mattress, which gets a bark of laughter from Dean, and then they settle down onto the bed together.

Dean winds up with his phone back when Castiel has to use his own to Google who the people are who are messaging Dean, and together, they start a list of who Dean’s interested in talking to and who he isn’t. Even though Dean’s completely capable of answering his messages on his own, he looks to Castiel for input on every word he types out, and the majority of their day is spent answering emails with interview questions, doing a phone call interview with the Nerds website that got him out there in the first place, and fielding texts/phone calls from every person Dean’s ever known who’s suddenly extremely interested in him now that they think they can earn fame just from being associated with him because of Taylor Swift.

Dean insists on taking him to get groceries again since he knows Castiel doesn’t have a car, but even then, he does the shopping while he and Dean discuss answers to another interview via email. Dean’s done four today, and while the questions have been wildly similar, Dean wants to try to give different answers so more people read them. 

For his part, Castiel continues to be shocked when everybody Dean talks to asks about him, their relationship, and how they met. Dean tells the lie-free version of what happened—they met at an open mic night, and even though Dean choked and couldn’t perform, Castiel recognized the song and told him—and that they’ve been together ever since. The curious look Dean shoots him while he tells it the first time has him wondering if Dean’s thinking the same thing he is: if any of this would have happened if he did tell the truth right away?

Once they’re back home on the couch and Dean ends a phone call with _ Buzzfeed Video _ after being asked yet again about his soulmate, Dean proves they were once again on the same wavelength when he rolls onto his back and puts his head in Castiel’s lap. “It’s fucked up that I’m actually wondering if you lying to me was the right thing to do.”

“It wasn’t,” Castiel says immediately. “I hurt you, and I still hate that every time I think about it.”

“It _ sucked, _ but would we be here if you didn’t?” Dean questions. 

It doesn’t take him long to come to a conclusion now that Dean’s asking the question out loud. “Maybe not in exactly this way, but yes. I still think so. You’re too talented not to get discovered at some point.”

“Oh how would you know?” Dean brushes him off with a snort. “You can’t even see straight through all those heart eyes you keep throwin’ at me.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so lovable.”

“You’re one to talk,” Dean tosses back. “Shit, I never coulda done any of this stuff today without you. All these interviews, the non-stop messages, figuring out who the fuck I’m even talking to.”

“Why do you continue to dismiss yourself like that?” Castiel asks, truly baffled. “You got this far because of how good _ you _ are. You got noticed by Taylor Swift by singing a half-serious version of one of her songs in your pajamas, and you _ kept it _ because you performed a song _ you wrote _ for the _ first time _ without even practicing it first!”

“Yeah, but—”

“Ah ah ah! No buts!” Castiel insists. “This is your big break, Dean. I’m telling you. You were so charming and funny and humble in the way only you could possibly be when you were talking to everybody today, and by this time tomorrow, all of those articles will have blown up and you’ll have contract offers rolling in by the _ dozens. _ And then it’ll be my turn to be the annoying guy who says, ‘I told you so,’” he finishes, grinning at his own joke.

“I love you.”

He’s caught so completely off-guard that it wipes the smile right off of his face. “What?” He’s been so wrapped up in his own feelings for Dean that it never even occurred to him that Dean might be feeling the same thing so soon. Dean’s smile is shy, but it’s still that specific smile he always saves for him, and that’s the moment he realizes Dean is being serious. He wouldn’t be surprised in the least if actual rays of sunshine came shooting out of his chest. “You love me?”

Dean shrugs unapologetically. “I know it’s fuckin’ nuts, trust me, but I really do. I love you.”

There it is again, that sunshine-bright light inside of him, filling his heart and everything else from head-to-toe with unprecedented warmth. _ Dean loves him. _ He laughs breathlessly, still scarcely believing his luck. After everything they’ve been through, all of the missteps and uncertainty in those first few weeks, Dean still managed to fall in love with him just as fast as he was falling for Dean.

“If you could say something, that would be really—”

_ Oh! _“I love you, too,” Castiel cuts him off before he can finish what was likely going to be a self-deprecating joke. “I told you already that I loved you before I met you, but I’ve loved you since then, too. I-I didn’t even know what it felt like until I woke up with you one morning, and without ever feeling it before, I knew exactly what it was. I fell in love with you.”

“I think I started falling for you the first time I tried to kiss you and you shot me down with your thumb like this,” Dean tells him, lifting his hand to brush over his cheek. 

Castiel can’t help the way his eyes mist over or the breathless huff of laughter that escapes him at the memory. “You were so beautiful, all flushed from alcohol and all the dancing. I never imagined your heart would be even more beautiful than your face.”

Dean lets out a quiet little whimper, and then he’s on him, closing the distance between them with the singularly sweetest kiss he’s ever experienced. If love was a tangible thing, he and Dean would be sharing it with every press of their lips, passing it between them with every soft caress of their tongues, feeling it grow impossibly bigger, deeper, and more life-changing with every stolen breath in between kisses. 

By the time they break apart, he’s no longer completely sure it isn’t. 

Unfortunately, as the days go by, they learn not every aspect of their lives will come to them as effortlessly as their budding relationship has. It took less than two weeks for the flurry of attention Dean was getting about his music to peter out, and just like that, he was back to square one. 

According to Dean, anyway. Castiel is still more optimistic than that. 

He urges Dean to release another new song now that he has so many followers, but it seems the pressure to match the success of 'One Good Reason' is toying with Dean’s head, because he can’t decide on a song to record. Jess pushes for the funny “love you more than pie” song, but Dean shoots her down, saying it will make him look less serious about his career if he releases a song like that after 'One Good Reason.' Sam suggests another cover, but Dean reminds him he doesn’t want to be a performer, he wants to be a song-writer, so that won’t help at all. 

Privately, Castiel brings up 'Lock and Key,' but Dean shakes his head, telling him he doesn’t want to sell that song because it’s _ theirs. _ Dean says he’s almost finished with an edited version of Stay and feels good about that one, so Castiel swallows down how he thinks the smart thing to do is to keep up momentum while he has it and doesn’t push. 

It isn’t until a truly sweltering day in June that a new idea presents itself to him in the form of an unexpected customer at One Page At A Time. 

He approaches the eccentrically-dressed young woman as she enters his store, thinking to himself that with the rainbow striped skirt and matching shoes, she looks like the kind of person who would get along well with Charlie. 

“Welcome to One Page At A Time, can I help you find something?”

Her eyes go almost comically wide, and her face flushes red from ear-to-ear. “I’m sorry, this is so weird.”

He smiles to try to put her at ease, but that only seems to set her off again, and this time she fails to stifle a giggle as she drops her gaze. “I’ve been doing this for a while now,” Castiel starts, “I’m sure your request won’t be the weirdest one I’ve heard.”

“Do... do you have a queer romance section?” she asks. 

“Absolutely. And I told you it wasn’t that weird,” he teases, leading the way towards the books she’s looking for. “Did you come over from Charlie’s? I don’t remember seeing you before.”

“No. I’m, um, actually a fan of Dean’s.”

He was absolutely not expecting that, but it’s not as if it’s an unwelcome surprise. “Oh!”

“You’re him, right? Dean’s soulmate? Castiel?” This is getting weirder and weirder, and something must show on his face because the woman starts explaining all in a rush. “I swear I’m not some psycho fan or something, he just talked about you and One Page At A Time in an interview he did with EW and it sounded so nice that I wanted to come see it for myself.” She stops, sighs, and asks, “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“It’s not weird,” he decides. “People find out about restaurants and tourist spots online and then go check them out all the time, so why not book stores, right?”

“Oh my god, thank you. I looked at pictures online and it seemed so cozy here, and since I was in the area, I figured why not?”

“Why not,” Castiel agrees. “Here’s the books you were looking for. Once you find something you like, feel free to hang around and read if you want. There’s complimentary coffee, but unfortunately, Dean’s working and won’t be by today.”

She laughs the way he hoped she would, then says, “I figured. But since I’ve already outed myself, would it be cool if we took a selfie?”

He blinks, confused. “You want a selfie with me?”

“Yeah!”

“Why?” Her face falls, and rephrases. “Sorry, it’s not that I’m unwilling, I just don’t understand. You know Dean’s the insanely talented one, right?”

“But he writes about you. You were in his first video and everybody knows he was singing Lover to you with the way he was winking and flirting with you. Plus, you’re soulmates, so you kinda come as a packaged deal.”

He’s still baffled, but he shrugs and says, “Why not?” again. They pose together for a picture, then he says, “Tag me on social media if you want to post it, and I’ll make sure Dean sees that you came by.”

Her eyes go really wide again but she shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do for a fan of Dean’s. Let me know if you need any other help.”

It turns out she doesn’t, but she does come to the counter where she purchases three novels. It’s not until she hands over her credit card that he looks at the name and does a double take. Lisa Stein. 

“You’re Lisa? Lisa Frankenstein from Twitter?”

Her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “You remember me?”

He chuckles when he remembers her freaking out when he RTed one of her Tweets. “Of course I remember you. It’s so nice to meet you in person! If you would have led with your name there wouldn’t have been any weirdness at all!”

“I didn’t think you’d know who I was!” she gushes. 

“Dean and I _ both _ know who you are and how much you had to do with Dean’s video blowing up. In fact, if you’re comfortable with it, I’d like to get Dean to send you an autograph or something to thank you.”

“Oh my god, I would _ love _ that!” As she’s writing down her address for him, she says, “I’m surprised you’re not already doing signings here or selling posters or something. All of my friends _ love _ Dean’s music and they’d totally come for a chance to meet him, or even just to get some merch to support him.”

“Really?”

“I can guarantee at least ten people,” she laughs. “Seriously though, he’s got so many followers now, I bet you’d be surprised how many people show up.”

That certainly gives him something to think about. She stays for a few hours reading and drinking coffee, and to her utter delight, Sam shows up between classes and she gets a chance to meet him, too. He watches with a smile on his face when she asks Sam for a selfie before she leaves, and then he and Sam immediately start discussing the idea she brought up. 

It’s only three weeks later when One Page At A Time holds its first official, “Meet and Greet” with Dean Winchester. When people call and ask about it, he explains Dean will be answering questions about his music, and then offering personalized autographs and selfies with fans. It’s supposed to start at 1:00, with the bookstore closing down at noon in order to prepare, and it’s about half-past that, now. 

Dean’s pacing the store like he’s awaiting a verdict that could send him to death row, but unfortunately, even with Jess and Sam’s help, he just has too much to deal with to go calm him down right now. There’s still a second table that has to be set up for more coffee and the individual-sized pies he ordered to give away to the customers, and he has to make sure the cash register is stocked with plenty of change in case people decide to shop while they’re here. All the while, he tries to keep an eye on Dean, who never stops pacing, until finally Sam catches Castiel by his elbow.

“Just go help him,” Sam urges him.

“But the other table—”

“I got it,” Jess insists. “We’ve talked about the set-up a hundred times. I know where everything goes and what needs to be done. Go drag him into your office and do what you gotta do to get his mind off of it, or he’s gonna end up bailing on this the same way he does open mic nights.”

Not only would that be _ terrible _ for Dean’s self-esteem, it would be horrendous for his business, too. He can’t let that happen. “Okay. I won’t be long. No matter what, I’ll get him out here on time.”

Because he hasn’t taken his eye off of Dean, he knows he’s in the stacks closest to his office. Dean’s leaning against one of the bookshelves, his eyes squeezed closed and his chest heaving with his heavier than normal breathing. 

“Hey superstar,” he teases. Dean’s eyes open and flicker up to his, revealing fear he hasn’t seen since the first night they met shining back at him. “Come with me, okay?” Castiel takes his hand to lead him away from the bookshelf, then wraps his arm around him to guide him towards his office. Once they’re inside, he closes and locks the door so they won’t be interrupted, and he pulls Dean into his arms. 

He just lets Dean cling to him for several long seconds, then he urges him to match his even breathing with broad sweeps of his hand up and down Dean’s back. Up for in, down for out, over and over until Dean’s shoulders aren’t so rigid and his breathing is back to normal. 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean mutters.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner,” Castiel says. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“Nothing.”

Luckily, Dean’s a terrible, terrible liar. It also helps that the very day he first brought this up, Dean whispered his biggest fear into the night. _ What if nobody comes? _

“There’s already a lineup of people outside,” Castiel tells him.

Dean’s head pops up off of his shoulder. “There is?”

“More than thirty people by Charlie’s count from across the street,” Castiel smiles. “I would have told you if you weren’t trying so hard to avoid me.”

Dean looks back down at the ground, and mumbles something that sounds like, “I don’t want to fuck shit up for your store.”

“You’re not,” Castiel promises. “If anything, you’re going to help it by bringing so many people inside.”

“But you spent all that money on the pie and pictures and Sharpies—”

“It wasn’t that much money,” Castiel assures him. “Besides, I can write Sharpies off as a business expense at tax time.” Dean snorts a laugh, and Castiel guides Dean’s hands to his hips where they belong. “I will be there every step of the way. You’re not doing this alone.”

“Couldn’t.”

Dean’s fingers have already climbed their way up under his shirt and onto his bare skin, and Castiel has to fight down the shiver that wants to wrack him from the sensation of Dean’s callous-rough fingers on his perpetually bruised hip bones. “Don’t you know by now? You can do anything.”

Dean shakes his head. “What if they ask me to sing?”

“They won’t.” Castiel had been very clear to everybody who asked that there would not be a performance, and when Lisa Tweeted out to be respectful of Dean’s stage fright, he RTed it so that all of Dean’s fans who follow him would see it. “Jess is ready with the water gun for the first person who does.”

That has Dean’s lips twitching to hold back a laugh, and Castiel leans in to catch them between his own. Dean smells exceptionally good today, and he breathes in deep, realizing he must have used cologne to make sure he kept smelling good under pressure. The masculine scent has arousal curling low in his belly, and so he licks his way into Dean’s mouth, probably more passionately than he should considering they’ve only got twenty minutes or so before the store will (hopefully) be filled with people. To his surprise, Dean returns the kiss with even more heat behind it, and within minutes, he finds himself with his back to the wall and Dean’s mouth hot and wet on his neck. 

Dean’s rolling his hips against him, both of them quickly getting worked up thanks to the way Dean has them pressed together just right, and although his head is swimming with arousal, he’s just lucid enough to know this is a Bad Idea.

“Dean, we can’t.”

If anything, Dean just rubs himself against him more insistently. “Why not?”

“Be-because,” Castiel stutters, losing the rest of his reply to a gasp when Dean palms over his growing erection. 

Dean kisses his way back up to his lips, grinning when he says, “Know what’s really good for relieving stress?”

Castiel laughs breathlessly. “I’m not stressed, Dean.”

“Yeah, but you know I get off from making you feel good. Let me blow you in your office. I know you’ve thought about it.”

He would have to be dead to turn that down. “Only if you let me do you after.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before Dean hits his knees in front of him, and his stomach swoops with desire when he sees how eagerly Dean undoes his jeans to pull Castiel’s cock free from his pants. He groans quietly when Dean swallows him down to the root with no preamble whatsoever, and within minutes, he’s thrusting into the moist warmth of Dean’s mouth. Dean has already learned his body so well that he knows exactly how to bring him to the edge effectively, _ efficiently, _ and he can’t even find it in him to be bothered when he’s coming down Dean’s throat with one hand covering his mouth to muffle his cry of pleasure only a few short minutes later.

He’s still breathing hard when he tucks himself away and zips back up, then it’s his turn to back Dean up and lower his fly. Dean bumps into his desk, and Castiel gives him a little shove until he’s braced on it, and only then does Castiel lower himself to his knees. Because he’s become more and more familiar with which aspects of Dean’s body he’s most affected by as their relationship has progressed, it’s no surprise to him when his mouth fills with saliva at the sight of Dean’s cock flushed red and leaking.

He opens his mouth wide and leans forward, humming in satisfaction when Dean slides in without hesitation. He knows how ridiculously turned on Dean gets from having a dick in his mouth, and he can tell just by the way Dean’s hips twitch in tiny, uncontrollable little thrusts that he’s not going to last very long. He lets his jaw go slack, knowing that his talent in this area so far lies more in his willingness to take it rather than his skill, and allows Dean to push his cock far enough into his mouth that he’s practically gagging right off the bat. 

_ “Shit, _ Cas,” Dean says, his voice tight and his fingers tugging at his hair.

He hears the warning for what is, is intimately familiar with that specific tone of Dean’s voice by now, and it only makes him more eager. Things get sloppy quickly as saliva spills from the sides of his mouth and over his chin while he pushes himself up higher on his knees so he can lean over Dean’s lap to give him a better angle to fuck into. His hands fall onto Dean’s muscular thighs, feeling them flex and shudder as Dean thrusts up into his slack mouth, getting closer and closer. He’s still relatively new at this, and although his jaw is already aching, he feels Dean’s thumb brush the corner of his lips and opens his mouth the tiniest little bit more. Dean’s cockhead nudges at the roof of his mouth, Dean lets out a deep, quiet moan that has pride blooming in Castiel’s chest, and then Dean’s hand is pulling up on Castiel’s hair in their previously agreed-upon warning that Dean’s about to come.

This is when he’d usually pull off and let Dean come onto his skin in hot splashes of white, but they’re in Castiel’s office and they both need to look presentable with no suspicious stains on their clothing, and so Castiel takes a deep breath, creates a tight seal around Dean’s thick cock, and _ sucks. _

Dean curses a vehement, breathless, _ “Fuck— _I’m gonna—” before his cock pulses and Dean comes into his mouth for the first time. He never had any hope that he would enjoy this, and in a lot of ways, it’s not a particularly pleasant experience. Frankly, it doesn’t taste good. Dean’s cum is bitter and salty and difficult to palate, but at the same time, he’s floored by how arousing he finds the act itself. Feeling Dean’s release spill across his tongue, knowing he inspired the power behind each spurt, and even the bitter taste has some kind of filthy sense of satisfaction rolling through him.

He swallows it down, earning another breathy curse from Dean, and once again, his blood boils in his veins and he’s completely taken aback by how much it turns him on to know he just swallowed a load of cum straight from his boyfriend’s cock. He moans as he keeps Dean’s cock in his mouth and lets more spill between his lips and pool on his tongue, trying to get used to the pungent flavor. When he lifts his eyes to Dean and sees the _ intensity _ in his gaze and the fervent look of surprised but acute arousal, it’s enough to have him swallowing the rest of his cum down his throat.

Dean’s hand brushes through his hair and falls down to the side of his face until he urgently pulls Castiel up to smash their lips together. His eyes widen with surprise when Dean licks into his mouth, and when Dean moans as his tongue slides over his own, he feels his knees go weak with a powerful surge of arousal. Dean is into this, _ likes this _in the same way Dean eagerly and often drops to his knees in front of him and asks him not to be so gentle when Castiel fucks his face this time, and so he lets his eyes close and his fingers wrap around the base of Dean’s neck as he silently gives his permission for Dean to take what he needs.

They sink into each other after that, both seeking the closeness and intimacy they didn’t have time to indulge in a minute ago, and it’s incredible to him that things can go from hot and heavy to sweet and loving like this so fast between them. He would stand here all day and kiss Dean if he could, but he knows he’s needed elsewhere this time, so it’s with a sense of reluctance that he slowly ends their kiss and ultimately pulls away.

“How’re you feeling now?” he asks, already knowing the answer because of how relaxed the set of Dean’s shoulders are.

“Like I need a nap.”

Castiel chuckles, feeling pleased with himself when he tucks Dean’s softening member back into his boxers for him. Dean stands and zips himself up, then he rakes his eyes up and down Castiel’s body. “Not a drop of spunk anywhere it doesn't belong,” he declares proudly. “Though your lips and hair are definitely gonna give us away. Come ’ere.”

Castiel dips his head and lets Dean fix his hair the best he can, and when Dean says it’s as good as it’s gonna get, he lifts his eyes to Dean and sees what he means about his lips. “Your lips are swollen too.”

“Maybe we’ll luck out and people will think we were just making out.”

Castiel pulls his phone from his pocket and sees it’s five to one. “We have five minutes before I’m supposed to open the doors. You should know I’m going to take it as a personal blow to my ego if you’re not _ entirely _ relaxed after that.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Dean promises. “Just don’t be surprised if I fall asleep halfway through an autograph ‘cause you sucked my brains out.”

Castiel leans in to kiss him one more time. “Will it be better for you to come out and see everybody as they come in, or do you want me to come get you after everybody’s inside?”

“I say we do it all together like we have from the beginning.”

That, combined with Dean’s fingers slotted between his, has his heart feeling warm and full as he unlocks the door and they walk back out into the store. Sam sees them first, but the pleased smile on his face falls away after only a few seconds and he looks away with clear distaste written all over his face.

He’s working through his own embarrassment when Dean snickers. “Yeah, we’re busted. Sammy’s onto us, which means—”

_ “Oh my god, _ did you guys have sex in your office?” Jess blurts. She looks at Castiel and says, “That is _ so not _ what I meant when I said to take his mind off of this!”

“Worked though,” Dean quips, and Castiel flushes when Jess shakes her head at the pair of them.

“Well now that you’re nice and _ relaxed, _everything’s ready. You wanna open up?” Jess asks.

“Yeah, just let us get seated at the table and let ‘em in.”

Jess turns to walk towards the door and Dean leads him over to the table where there’s already two chairs next to the stack of photos Dean’s going to sign. “Wait," Castiel starts. "Why are there two chairs? I’m happy to be here to support you, but—”

“You’re not gonna sit with me?” Dean asks, panic returning to his voice and his eyes.

He wasn’t planning on it, but he’s also not about to turn him down when he looks so frightened. He squeezes Dean’s hand to reassure him. “Of course I am.”

They sit side by side, and Dean gives a thumbs up to Jess. She opens the doors, and instantly, Dean’s fingers tighten like a vice on his under the table as people start to walk inside. Sam hands everybody a ticket so Dean can sign in the order of when people lined up, and within minutes, there’s a good-sized crowd queued up in front of them waiting for the room to fill and Castiel to get things started. He keeps an eye on Jess, watching her poke her head out the door and give him a nod once she’s done, letting him know it’s okay to start. 

He gives Dean’s hand one more squeeze, then they stand together and walk out in front of the tables still hand-in-hand.

“Thank you all for coming,” he starts. “I’m Castiel, the owner of One Page At A Time, and I’m sure you all recognize the man you came here to see standing next to me.” There’s a smattering of applause, and he encourages it by pointing to Dean and announces, “Dean Winchester.”

Dean blushes but gives a friendly wave and nod to the people, and once the applause dies down, Castiel continues, “So we have twenty minutes for questions from the audience before we move on to the signing and pictures. Who wants to go first?”

When his eyes immediately catch on Lisa Stein all decked out in an outfit with more daisies on her than he’s seen in his life, he smiles wide and chooses her first. “Go ahead.”

“Hi,” she starts, obviously nervous.

“Hey, I know you,” Dean teases, and Castiel can’t hide his smile when she flushes a deeper red than he’s seen before.

“Wow, okay, um. I was wondering if you could tell us a little bit about how you write your songs?”

“Good question,” Dean says. “Well, usually something inspires me. Mostly Cas, now,” he says, which earns a unanimous chorus of, _ awww. _ “Cas fans, huh? I can relate,” he jokes, and Castiel’s sure he’s blushing almost as hard as Lisa is now. “So, Cas inspires me, and I’ll either get a line of lyrics or a couple of notes that start spinning in my head. Usually it takes a couple days for it to start to take form, but I kinda build everything around that. Sometimes it’s the music that comes first, so I’ll work out a tune I like, then record it on my phone so I don’t forget what I wrote. Then I’ll start working on lyrics, match what I wanna say to the feel of the song, and put it together piece by piece. And sometimes it’s the other way around.”

“Do the lyrics usually come to you in order, or like, chorus and then verse?” Lisa asks.

“Mostly out of order,” Dean answers. “I’ll write out the lyrics when they come to me, then rearrange them over and over and over until I think they’re in the right spots. Then I usually change them a dozen times again, until I’ve finally got it down pat.”

“Cool,” she replies. “Thanks.”

The next question is asking Dean how long it takes it to write a song, then about which part is harder, the music or the lyrics. Castiel knows he’s comfortable when Dean leans back to sit on the table, and he wanders over to the side a little bit to let Dean have the spotlight. Dean is asked when he thinks he’ll have another video up and whether it will be an original song, and Dean tells them it will be and to watch for it to pop up within the next month. When pressed, he even offers the title, “I Could Spend Forever,” which makes Castiel smile.

“Did you write that about Castiel?” somebody asks.

“Yeah, I did. I wrote it the day I realized I fell in love with him. The same day we recorded 'Lover,' actually.”

Dean fields more questions about what kind of music he listens to, who he’d love to hear sing one of his songs the most, and then finally, what the first song he ever heard Castiel sing in his head was. Cotton-Eyed-Joe doesn’t paint him in the most flattering light, but Dean tells the whole story about Sam being the one who started it, and he’s happy that he can end the Q&A on a lighthearted note. He gets everybody into line by number, tells them to grab a mini pie on their way out, and turns to tell Dean to take his seat when Dean surprises him by speaking to the crowd again.

“If you can, don’t forget to buy a book to go with your pie,” Dean tells his fans. “Cas is awesome to do this for us here, so if you want to thank him, buy something to read.”

“Any suggestions?” somebody calls out.

“Three books: Wool, Shift, and Dust by Hugh Howey. First books Cas recommended I read, and you’ll know when you read them why he’s so damn good at his job.”

Castiel happens to know they only have six copies of those books in stock, and while he knows that’s going to be a pain in the ass for Jess when everybody starts asking for them, he also knows Dean is only trying to help. 

The whole signing and selfies thing goes just as well as Castiel expected it to. Dean is extremely charming and genuinely thankful for every single person who showed up, and he makes sure everybody leaves with a smile on their face. Castiel is baffled when about half of the people ask for his signature next to Dean’s and for pictures with him, too, but Dean takes it all in stride and even leaps into a few pictures to press a kiss to his cheek or his temple, absolutely thrilling the people taking the photos. 

It isn’t until he takes the last autograph ticket and sees it’s number 211 that he realizes they more than doubled how many people they expected. He doesn’t get a chance to show Dean right away because there’s a few stragglers hovering around the table with Sam. Sam brings them over and explains they’re from the Denton Record-Chronicle and the university’s newspaper, North Texas Daily, and the smile Dean shares with him then is so full of gratitude and excitement, Castiel knows he would have shelled out a hundred times how much he spent to make this day happen for Dean.

He sits next to Dean, holding his hand through both interviews and encouraging him with his laughter after Dean’s jokes and gentle sweeps of his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand anytime Dean fumbles. Many, many hours later, when they’re both tucked into Castiel’s bed that night as usual, exhausted but still exhilarated by the success of the day, Dean kisses him soft and sweet and so incredibly thoroughly that he was rendered breathless long before Dean told him, “Thank you for today,” with more reverence in his voice than he’s ever heard before. “I love you... so, so much, sweetheart.”

And like every time he says it, he means it with every single piece of him when he whispers back. “I love _ you.” _

He falls asleep that night in Dean’s arms, absolutely certain that nobody has ever felt more loved than him.


	16. Chapter 16

Thanks to all of Cas’s hard work, the two of them become some weird version of local celebrities after his bookstore signing. Business at One Page At A Time picks up so much that Jess has to work there three days a week instead of two, and the other two days are picked up by Sam now that he’s done with school for the summer. Both he and Cas are recognized all over town, and though they don’t get mobbed or asked for autographs or anything like that while they’re out and about, there is _ always _ somebody who waves or stops to say hello to them. 

Cas holds a video release party for Dean’s next single, and almost five hundred people show up. The video doesn’t explode like it did when Taylor Swift posted his link to her YouTube, but does really well on its own. He gets another article in both of the local papers, and Nerds and Beyond does another interview with him. He gets his first offer for a contract at the end of July, and although he starts off so excited he thought he was gonna hit the damn roof, all it took was for Sam to read through the contact once before all of his hopes and dreams came crashing down.

“This basically says they can change any lyrics and any of the melody without your consent,” Sam tells him. “They could change this to be a rap song and add a bunch of racial slurs to it, and they’d still slap your name on it.”

When he went back with amendments to the contract that gave him control over his own music, they shot him down and refused to discuss it any further.

That was one of his lowest days so far.

If it weren’t for Cas and his non-stop support, he’s pretty sure that day would’ve broken him. It would’ve been enough to make him stop trying to sell his music, to stop putting it out there, and just give up on his dream. As it is, it’s almost a month between the time he lost the contract and the time he can first stomach picking up his guitar again. Even if they weren’t basically living together in Cas’s apartment by now, Cas would’ve known he hasn’t been playing thanks to their soulmate connection. Thankfully Cas never pushes him, but he asks Dean often if he feels like playing, and Dean always tells him no. The sadness in Cas’s eyes feels like an actual weight on his heart.

Cas confesses when they’re snuggled up together in bed late at night how much he misses hearing his voice in his head, and Dean promises that he’ll sing again someday, he just needs more time. The only reason he tries again at all is because Cas’s birthday is coming up, and the one thing Cas has asked for is to hear him play.

He feels like a part of him comes back to life as soon as he has his fingers on the strings again, and it’s in that moment when he has a stunning moment of clarity that shapes the rest of his life without even knowing it. 

They go back to LSA Burger for dinner with Sam, Jess, and Jo to celebrate Cas’s 30th birthday. They’ve been here plenty of times in the four months since they’ve met, and it’s kinda their thing to get up and dance anytime they happen to be there when there’s live music playing. They’re well-known here, both because of how frequently they pop by and because of their ‘local celebrity’ status, so they always get great seats close to the stage. They’ve all finished their food and are working on their drinks waiting for the music to start when Dean excuses himself to use the bathroom.

Except he doesn’t actually _ go _ to the bathroom, he heads backstage instead where Charlie is waiting for him with his guitar and a couple of liquid shots of courage. 

“How’re you feeling?” she asks him.

“Singing doesn’t seem like that big of a deal at the moment,” he admits, and she laughs. 

“He’s going to love this. He’s been worried about you,” she tells him.

“I know.” He grabs his guitar and throws the strap over his shoulder, getting it comfortable and plucking at a couple of strings to make sure it’s still in tune. “You got the video all queued up in case I blow chunks?”

“You bet your butt I do,” Charlie says. “But you’re not gonna need it.”

“As long as he cooperates, I think I’ll be okay,” Dean tells himself for the millionth time. He’s gotten more and more familiar with being in front of a crowd thanks to the events Cas has been coordinating at his store, and he knows from experience that having Cas next to him makes a huge difference. 

“Your table is front and center, so just look into those baby blues the same way you do anytime you two love birds are in the same room, and he’s not gonna be able to say no to you.”

He nods, then knowing the longer he stays back here the worse it’s going to get, he says, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

A few short seconds later, he hears the emcee for tonight make the announcement they’ve agreed on. “Thank ya’ll for coming to LSA Live Music. Tonight’s a bit of a special night, because a little birdie told us it’s Castiel Novak’s 30th birthday today. For those of you who don’t know, Castiel’s the owner of One Page At A Time, a pillar of the community, and a good friend to us here at LSA Burger. So when we got a special request for tonight’s music because of his birthday, we were more than happy to do what we could to make his day a little bit better. So without further ado, please welcome to the stage Denton’s very own Dean Winchester.”

His knees feel like they’re going to give out on him before he even starts walking, and if it wasn’t for Charlie’s solid push to get him started, he’s not sure he ever would have been able to take that first step forward. But once he starts, it’s easier to keep going with his eyes locked on one of the two stools that are sitting in front of the single microphone on stage. He feels steadier once he’s sitting and he doesn’t have to worry about falling on his ass, and before he even puts his hand on the neck of the guitar, he looks across the room to where he can see Cas looking like Dean’s not the only one about to pass out.

“Surprise,” he says into the mic, and he gets a laugh from the audience and a fond shake of Cas’s head. “So, full disclosure, I have freakin’ terrible stage fright, and I know this is gonna lose me about half of my cool points, but uh, Cas, if you could come up here and sit with me I think the chances of me falling off this stool are gonna be lowered significantly.”

Like he knew he would, Cas ignores his embarrassment and gets up to walk onto the stage to take the seat next to him. “You don’t have to do this,” Cas whispers.

Dean looks straight into his eyes and whispers back, “Yeah, I do.” Then, back into the microphone, he says, “This is a song I’ve been working on for the better part of a decade, but it never really took form until I met Cas. So this one’s for him for his birthday, but really, just because he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. This is called ‘Lock and Key.’”

He hasn’t sang out loud in so long he’s petrified his voice is going to crack, but with Cas looking at him with all the love in the world visible in his blue eyes shining in the lights, he finds the courage to start playing anyway. His fingers drift over the strings without even looking at them, helping to center him, steady him, to soothe the nerves that were going haywire with how right it feels to be playing again. 

He sees Cas’s smile start to grow, some of Cas’s fear clearly starting to settle when he notices Dean’s doing okay so far, and because the last thing in the whole fucking world he wants to do is fuck up this moment for Cas, he takes a single deep breath and starts singing before he can psyche himself out of it.  
  
_ “Another day with just me, myself, and I.   
_ _ These words echo off the walls.  
_ _ The notes bouncing down the hall,  
_ _ don’t replace the sound of your feet.  
_ _ No racing, no chasing, no laughter so beautifully off beat.  
  
_ _ A warm hand in mine.  
_ _ Lips soft and firm and pink.  
_ _ Kisses so good the thought makes my head spin.  
_ _ Not just any will do,  
_ _ not when I only want you.  
  
_ _ I know there’s a key made for my lock,  
_ _ just lift your hand and knock.  
_ _ I’m waiting here to let you in.  
_ _ I’m wide, wide open,  
_ _ for you.  
  
_ _ I rolled over, missing the shape of you again.  
_ _ My arms were empty, just like my bed.  
_ _ Blank space on my shoulder waiting for your head.  
_ _ Cold sheets that don’t smell like you,  
_ _ Not beer, not books, no scent to fall back to sleep to.  
  
_ _ Breath hot on my skin.  
_ _ Love and tenderness in every touch.  
_ _ Bed head on your pillow, wide eyes looking up at mine.  
_ _ Not just any will do,  
_ _ not when I only want you.  
  
_ _ I know there’s a key made for my lock,  
_ _ just lift your hand and knock.  
_ _ I’m waiting here to let you in.  
_ _ I’m wide, wide open,  
_ _ for you.  
  
_ _ Let me run back into your embrace,  
_ _ Keep you safe in my arms,  
_ _ Feel your heart beating next to mine.  
_ _ Promise me this is it,  
_ _ You’ll never let me go again,  
_ _ You are mine and I am yours.  
  
_ _ I know you’re the key made for my lock.  
_ _ You didn’t even have to knock.  
_ _ One look and you slipped in.  
_ _ I’m wide, wide open,  
_ _ for you.” _

He’s distantly aware of the sound of people clapping, but he only has eyes for Cas. Cas, who has tears streaming down his face and the biggest smile he’s ever seen upon his lips. Cas, who Dean knows without asking, isn't crying because of what the song says, but because Dean finally did it. He sang a song in front of people without fucking it up, and he did it all because of Cas.

They both get to their feet at the same time, but before Cas can say anything, Dean pushes his guitar around to his back and takes Cas’s hand in his.

“I tried my whole life, and never managed to do what I just did for myself,” he starts, knowing that the mic can pick up what he’s saying. “Less than six months with you, and here I am, doing things I never thought were possible. You’ve made every dream I’ve ever had and some I didn’t even know existed come true just by being you.” He snakes his hand into his back pocket, drops to one knee, and with his heart pounding like a drum in his chest, says, “Now it’s your turn. Let me be the one who moves into that old house on the outskirts of town with you, holds you as the sun comes down, and sings to you about how much I love you every day for the rest of our lives. Let me be your soulmate _ and _ your husband.” He opens his hand and shows off the simple white gold band in his palm. “Marry me, Cas.”

Cas drops to both knees in front of him and wraps his arms around his neck before he’s even finished saying his name._ “Yes,” _ Cas says breathlessly, and Dean would swear on the Impala that he’s never heard anything more beautiful in his life. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I love you. I love you so much.” Cas backs up to kiss him, but they’re both smiling so big it’s more like lips on teeth than anything. And then Cas has his hands on Dean’s face, and his eyes are watering all over again when he says, “I’m _ so _ proud of you.”

Dean kisses him again, and this time, their lips line up perfectly, making the fact that he knows this is being recorded, the audience, their thundering applause, and everything else fall away except for Cas and how right it feels to know these particular lips are the only ones he’ll ever feel on his ever again. And maybe it has something to do with the circumstances, but he’s damn sure there never has been and never will be a better kiss than this.

  
Castiel had no idea be could be so happy. If you asked him while he was celebrating his birthday with all of his favorite people, he would have said that was as good as it gets. When Dean stepped on stage and started singing “Lock and Key” to him for the first time ever, in front of an audience, no less, he would have swore on his life that it was impossible to feel more happiness than this. And then, of course, Dean got down on one knee and offered him everything he’s ever wanted, and that joy eclipsed anything and everything he’s ever felt before.

It’s not unusual for the two of them to have a hard time keeping their hands to themselves when so much of their connection has always been physical, but tonight is something else. If it weren’t for the bubbles from a bottle of celebratory champagne that went straight to his head, he might even be embarrassed by how many kisses they’ve shared since Dean finally remembered to slide the engagement ring onto his finger. He probably wouldn’t have chosen to wait until they were on the dance floor surrounded by people to whisper with his voice low and raspy from the desire he’s been trying unsuccessfully to shove down, “I want you to fuck me tonight.”

Now, almost two hours and one incredibly sexually charged Lyft ride later, they’re wrapped together as close as humanly possible while they grind like a couple of horny teenagers in the elevator. It takes two _ dings _ to get them to the elevator doors, and a third after the two of them are nearly closed between them to make it all the way out, but finally, _ finally, _ they’ve reached his front door. 

It’s extremely difficult to concentrate on getting the lock in place when Dean’s cock is riding the crack of his ass and his hands are pushing up his shirt. It isn’t until Dean’s breathless laughter ghosts over the shell of his ear, saying, “Fuck, Cas. Open the door,” that he realizes he’s gotten so lost in the sensation of Dean’s cock hot and hard against his ass and Dean’s fingers tweaking his nipple that he’s braced himself against the door instead of trying to get it open.

“Jesus,” he breathes. Dean’s lips are blazing a trail down the side of his neck now and he knows there’s no way they’re going to make any progress like this, so he rolls his shoulder to shove him off, earning himself another laugh from his _ fiance. _ “Cut it out.”

“You started it,” Dean says childishly.

Castiel rolls his eyes as he finally slips the key into the lock and opens the door. “You are so annoying.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

That puts a smile back on his face, and even as the door closes behind him and he finds himself spun and his back pushed against it once more, he answers, “I really, really do.”

Dean’s hands are surprisingly gentle when they slide up his sides and onto his face. “I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

His smiles grows impossibly wider as happiness fills him up all over again. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, Cas,” Dean echoes, finally moving in to close the distance between them again. It starts soft and sweet, but once again progresses until Castiel has his shoulders against the door and his pelvis tilted out so far searching for friction against Dean’s that he probably wouldn’t be able to stay standing if it wasn’t for Dean’s firm grip on his ass. 

Just knowing he’s going to have more than Dean’s fingers inside of him tonight, that he’s going to lose his virginity to the love of his life, his soulmate, and his _ fiance, _ has desperation tearing at him like claws. He thrusts against Dean again, but this time, Dean slides his hands down his thighs and hooks his fingers behind his knees, and it’s with a swooping sensation in his stomach that he wraps his legs around Dean’s waist as he feels himself being lifted straight up off of the ground. Dean takes one big step forward, straightening Castiel’s spine against the door and pinning him there with his hips. Castiel lets out a throaty moan, turned on beyond belief by how strong Dean is, by how _ hot _ it is to feel Dean’s cock hard against him and Dean’s hands molded to his ass cheeks. 

He wraps his arms around Dean’s neck as Dean starts kissing him absolutely breathless. Castiel’s hands desperately tug at the little bits of Dean’s hair he can get a grip on, using the advantage of being held up high enough to force Dean’s head back and really delve into the welcome warmth of his mouth. He hears Dean’s breath catch, the sound _ he _ pulled from Dean sending a bolt of desire straight between his legs, and their lips stay sealed together even as Dean gets a hand around his lower back and carries him across the room. 

They only make it to the wall right outside their bedroom before his shoulders hit the wall again. Dean tears at the fly of Castiel’s jeans and wraps his hand around as much of his cock as he can get free in this position, and Castiel’s head falls back, thudding against the wall hard enough for Dean to set him back down on his feet.

“Shit, you okay?” Dean asks, his eyes wide with concern but his lips puffy from kissing. 

It’s been _ months _ and Castiel can’t tear his eyes away from the enticing sight any easier now than he could the first time he saw them, and so even though there’s definitely going to be a goose egg there tomorrow, he nods his head and starts working on pushing Dean’s flannel shirt over his broad shoulders. 

Dean grabs his wrists, stopping him until their eyes meet. “You good?”

_ “Yes,” _ he grits out, annoyed that he’s having to stop now that he feels really ready. “I want you to fuck me.” The sound Dean makes then is close enough to a whimper that a lesser man would laugh in his face. With his flannel off, he reaches for the hem of his t-shirt and starts pulling it up. “And I want to look at you while you do it, so I need to get this _ off.” _

Dean allows him to pull it off, but then Dean’s hands tighten on his hips and Dean holds him in place when he presses his lips to his forehead. It makes him feel ridiculous all of the sudden, standing with his dick sticking out of the fly of his jeans and his head starting to throb, literally two steps outside of his bedroom. 

“I want this... more than you know,” Dean says lowly, and Castiel feels a rush of appreciation for Dean never pushing him into this—for not even asking. “But we’re not gonna rush it.”

“We’ve been waiting for _ months,” _ Castiel reminds him.

“So another ten minutes isn’t gonna kill you,” Dean tosses back. “We only get to do this for the first time once, and I’m not gonna fuck it up this time.”

Because he knows Dean still carries guilt for what happened the day he first found out they’re soulmates and that a part of his sweet soulmate probably always will, it settles something inside of him. It reminds him that this isn’t only sex, but love and intimacy and something special he’s held onto for so long _ because _ he wanted it to be right.

He nods once, leans in, and catches Dean’s lips in a tender, lingering kiss that’s satisfying enough to keep the flames of desire glowing like coals in his lower belly but stifles the intense, all-consuming fire from before. They kiss each other again and again, lips gliding and tongues sliding in a soft caress as Dean steers him carefully through their bedroom and towards their bed. He loses his shirt before he’s lifted once more and dropped onto the bed with a _ whoosh _ and a grinning Dean following him down.

“You never get tired of that, do you?” Castiel asks.

Dean’s grin only grows. “It’s like jumping on the bed for grown-ups.”

“It’s unfortunate there’s only one grown-up here right now,” Castiel says, his smile belying his dry tone.

Dean chuckles as he swoops in and smooches his bottom lip. “Believe me, we’re about to have as much fun as two grown-ups can legally have.” Dean kisses him again, his plump lips clinging longer this time to Castiel’s bottom lip first, then his top one, and finally, one square to his mouth. “I’m gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart.”

“I know you will,” Castiel answers, not an ounce of doubt in his body, mind, or heart. “Make love to me, Dean.”

And begins doing just that to every inch of him. Dean’s lips travel over his neck, his hips and chest at the same time Dean’s hands caress everywhere they can reach, systematically hitting each of Castiel’s hot spots while whispering heart-warming endearments that cause butterflies to take flight in his stomach. By the time they’re both completely naked, he’s not entirely sure he’s going to last long enough to actually be penetrated for the first time, and that’s _ before _ he feels the spine-tingling sensation of calloused fingers ghosting dry along his crack.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Cas,” Dean tells 

him, green eyes focused on what he knows must be a flushed, sweaty face by now. “Could do this all day and never get tired of it.”

Because he can see the adoration in the way Dean looks at him, his reply comes out in a quiet murmur. “I love you so much.” 

Dean’s smile is soft when he urges him to spread his legs wider, and then Castiel feels his skin heat up as Dean’s gaze drops to survey the newly exposed sight. “Can you roll over for me, sweetheart? Gotta get you good and ready for me.”

If there had ever been any judgement in their bed, he might think it’s pathetic how quickly he turns onto his stomach and scrambles to his knees, but when he hears the low, appraising sound Dean makes as he gently pulls his cheeks apart, all he feels instead is desire and a delicious thrill of anticipation. 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean curses quietly. Castiel’s breath hitches as Dean’s thumb rubs at his puckered skin. “Such a tight, pretty pink hole.”

His face burns from the praise, but it’s nothing compared to the arousal that flares through him. “Dean,” he says, the tone of his voice begging him to move things along already. 

“Told you I’d take good care of you, Cas.” 

A full body shudder wracks him when Dean’s suddenly close enough to feel his breath puff warm and moist on his taint. His fingers clench in the bed sheets, but even knowing what’s about to happen and how incredible it’s going to feel, nothing ever quite prepares him for the onslaught of pleasure from that first glorious swipe of Dean’s tongue. 

_ “Oh g-god,” _ he gasps, already desperate for more. The low sound of satisfaction and Dean’s fingers pressing more firmly into his skin as he circles his rim only increases the need for more, and he pushes himself back into Dean’s face, relishing the additional pressure of Dean’s slick tongue on his sensitive skin just the way he wanted it. 

“Yeah, come on, Cas.” Dean’s voice egging him on, already lower than usual, is like adding fuel to the fire. 

One thing Castiel has learned since their relationship has become more sexual is that Dean is especially selfless in bed, loudly encouraging Castiel to take pleasure from him, to go for what he wants, to do anything and everything he’s even thought he might someday enjoy without restrictions. Ever since Dean explained how hot it gets him to be the one who’s getting Castiel off, Castiel has learned to ignore any insecurities he may have over being vocal and greedy, and to just give into the demands of his body to give them _ both _ what they want. 

So Dean’s little boost of confidence is all it takes to have him start grinding back into Dean’s face, riding the rhythm of Dean’s jaw opening and closing as he undulates his tongue around and across and _ in, in, in. _ He moans wantonly when Dean sucks on his softening rim, whimpers when he kitten-licks around his opening, and cries out when Dean’s tongue spears inside. 

There’s barely a moment between Dean sliding one hand up his back and Castiel using one of his own hands to hold himself open for Dean, and he gets his reward in the form of Dean’s hand wrapping around Castiel’s leaking cock to jerk him off in long, slow strokes that have his toes curling with pleasure. 

“You’re unbelievable, Cas. So damn hard for me, aren’t you?”

He nods even though he’s face-first on his pillow, too lost in sensation to even bother trying to make words. He feels the rough scrape of Dean’s facial hair between his cheeks as Dean goes back to working him open with one probing lick at a time, and it’s only minutes before he’s reduced to a quivering, moaning mess. Dean’s so enthusiastic about this that there’s warm saliva trickling down his ass crack and coating his balls, and it’s so _ dirty, _ so _ wrong _ that they’re both enjoying Dean eating his ass so voraciously that he’s actually dripping with it that it makes him feel like he’s going to go off like a rocket. 

Either Dean can feel the gradual tensing of his muscles as he’s driven closer and closer to the edge from Dean’s steady grip and talented mouth, or Dean knows the specific pitch of his voice just as well as he knows Dean’s, because it feels like delicious torture when Dean’s hand releases him to move back to fondle his balls before sliding over his hip, over his ass, and between his cheeks to join his tongue. 

The first two fingers sliding in with only the help of the saliva Dean’s left behind is filthy and so unbelievably good he genuinely forgets how to breathe while they inch their way into him. 

“Oh _ fuck. _Just like that,” Dean rumbles. He’s in to the webs of his fingers, scissoring and stretching every time he pushes back inside. “Taking it so good, sweetheart. You want this so bad, don’t you?”

Castiel agrees on a stilted breath. _ “Yes.” _

“You feel nice and tight on my fingers, gonna feel so damn good when I’m in you.” 

He’s about to urge Dean to get a move on already when he hears the tell-tale _ click _ of the bottle of lube opening, then slick fingers sliding inside of him without resistance. This time, Dean crooks his fingers, and Castiel sees stars as Dean hits his prostate dead-on. 

_ “Oh! _ Yes! Fuck, _ again,” _ Castiel demands, a high-pitched grunt escaping him when he gets his wish. Dean withdraws only long enough to add a third finger, and the wince from the burning stretch disappears as Dean zeroes back in on his sweet spot, causing Castiel to arch his spine and ride back on his fingers to keep them pressed snugly to his prostate. 

“So fucking gorgeous,” Dean pants. “Wish you could see how good you look split open on my fingers, sweetheart.”

Dean keeps fingering him until his ass feels open and sloppy, and it’s only after several long minutes of his increasingly persistent reassurance of, “Dean, I’m ready. I’m prepped, I’m ready. _ Please,” _ that Dean finally deems himself satisfied with his work. 

He rolls over onto his back as soon as Dean’s fingers pull out, and he grabs Dean by the shoulders, pulling him down to meet his lips in a deep, probing kiss that has the musky taste of himself rolling onto his tongue. Dean slots into place between his legs, spread open and inviting, and when he feels Dean’s cockhead riding the cleft of his ass, filthy and suggestive in the left-over saliva and lube and so close to where he’s wanted him for _ so long _ now, he can’t wait another second.

He gets his hand between them and tries blindly lining Dean up with his entrance, but Dean’s hips tilt away, pulling a growl of frustration from his throat and a soft huff of laughter from Dean.

“Hold your horses for a second,” Dean soothes him, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. It’s such a strange thing to do now of all times that it makes him pause long enough for Dean to say, “I was kinda thinkin’... what if you got on top? That way you could go at your own pace, y’know? Take as much or as little as you’re comfortable with.”

Castiel shakes his head, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. That’s not what he wants. That’s not what he’s been fantasizing about all this time, and Dean knows that, making him wonder why Dean would offer something he knows he doesn’t want. 

“I want it like this, with you on top of me. We’ve... talked about that.”

“I just—” Dean drops his forehead to his, and it’s with his eyes closed that he whispers, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Castiel’s heart aches as his confusion turns to understanding. “Dean, you would _ never _ hurt me.” He tilts his chin up to coax him into a sweet, comforting kiss. “I love you,” he reminds him, stroking his thumb over Dean’s freckled cheek. “I trust you, and god, Dean,” he says on a gentle laugh, “I _ want _you.” 

Dean meets him halfway for another kiss, this one much more enthusiastic, and he knows the sharp press of teeth against his bottom lip is Dean’s way of showing him Dean wants him, too. A roughened palm skates along the inside of his thigh, and Castiel opens his legs wider with a moan of appreciation. Dean slicks himself up with their lips still melded together, gets himself back into place with his cock snug against Castiel’s hole, and breaks their kiss to ask, “You sure? We can still stop.”

“I’m sure,” Castiel promises. 

Dean’s gaze is so fixated on his expression he’s afraid if he so much as flinches that Dean will change his mind. “If it hurts—”

“I will tell you.” 

He shifts his hips side to side anxiously, driven half-mad when he feels the wet tip of Dean’s cock jostled between his cheeks, so, so close to pushing in. It occurs to him suddenly that he’s not sure Dean knows exactly how much he wants this, how _ excited _ he is to feel Dean moving inside of him, to feel Dean’s weight on top of him and his cock stretching him open. So he repeats himself from earlier, but this time, he doesn’t hide his eagerness, not even when it makes his face flood with color and his voice come out in a rough, shaky rasp.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Dean curses so quietly he barely hears the broken,_ “Fuck,” _ under his breath, but he sees the way his eyes flash with desire, feels Dean’s fingers tighten where he has one hand on his hip, and finally, _ finally _ he feels the first hint of pressure as Dean starts to push. Castiel’s so turned on, so _ eager _ with his body open and willing that he instinctively rolls his hips towards Dean, meeting him as he starts to sink inside of him.

_ “Holy ssshit,” _ he gasps. The initial stretch of the wide, lube-slick head breaching him is unbelievable. He thought it would feel like fingers, but it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before, so much more intense and _ real. _ Yes, the stretch burns a little bit but it’s nothing he can’t handle, so when Dean stops he whines with disappointment, knowing that’s the _ last _ thing he wants. “No no, I’m—I’m okay, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” he chants. He can hear Dean’s ragged breathing, feel how tense Dean is above him, and distantly, far back in the recess of his mind, he hopes saving himself all this time means his ass feels amazing for his soulmate. 

But then his jaw pops open and his eyes squeeze together tight as Dean gives one single sharp thrust, popping past the first tight ring of muscle and _ pushing. _ Holy mother of god it’s _ good, _ but it’s intense as Dean splits him wide open and doesn’t stop until every inch of his thick length is buried all the way inside and his heavy balls are resting snugly against Castiel’s skin. 

“Oh fuck,” Castiel pants, his fingers digging deep into Dean’s solid shoulders as he writhes, trying to get used to the intrusion. “Fuck, you’re big. _ Huge. _ Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Dean drops his head to mouth at his neck, but he’s breathing hard, too. “Jesus christ you’re tight. Stop—stop clenching around me so hard or your first time’s gonna be over before it starts.”

That surprises a huff of laughter out of him, and inexplicably, a conversation they had what feels like so long ago comes back to him. His voice is tight and he’s out of breath already, but he’s determined to get this out to help ground himself, to stop his mind from spinning out, and maybe partly to help Dean relax, too. 

“Kind of—nice to know you think I’m—I’m so hot you’re going to blow your load in the first ten seconds.”

Dean’s body shakes with laughter of his own, and then Dean lifts himself enough to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “This is so much better than listening at the door. You feel so fucking good, Cas, there aren't even words.” 

Castiel has a wide smile on his face when he gets confirmation Dean remembers too, but his eyes start to fill as he realizes how far they’ve come. From Dean trying to kiss him so many times the first night they met, to the two of them failing miserably at being friends when he was keeping their soulmate status from Dean for so long. From Dean breaking his heart to the two of them working so very, very hard to fix things, building trust and understanding and a bond so strong that he knows _ nothing _ could break it now. It’s so much.

It’s everything. 

“Dean,” he whispers, all at once too overcome with emotion to say anything else.

Dean’s lips are trembling when they touch his again, and Castiel throws himself into it, using everything he’s learned from Dean to make this kiss full of love and understanding and the kind of desire that makes his head swim.

They’re both steadier by the time Dean pulls away for a breath, Castiel still hyper-aware of the thick length buried to the hilt between his cheeks. 

“I love you so goddamn much, Cas. You have no idea. It’s never—” Dean stops, swallows, and Castiel sees his eyes are swimming now, too. “You gotta know it’s never felt like this for me before. Not ever. Only with you.” 

He hums happily when the flat of Dean’s nose rubs along the side of his face, Dean’s lips peppering sweet kisses down his jaw between shaky breaths as Dean makes his way to his neck. While he takes another minute to adjust, to try to get used to the idea and feeling of Dean’s cock stuffing him full, he feels Dean’s palm caressing his hip, a soothing, familiar sensation that grounds him with its soft, rhythmic circles. 

As he starts to relax, he becomes aware of a slight tremor in Dean’s thighs, and it occurs to him for the first time that Dean, too, might be feeling overwhelmed, or even wickedly tempted with the tight heat of his virgin ass wrapped around him. Just like he expected, though, like he _ knew, _ Dean doesn’t move. He holds his hips still, his mouth and hands busy worshiping Castiel’s body the same way they did before they moved this far, and that combined with the deep breaths Castiel keeps taking, has the shock and bewilderment of what’s happening slowly turning into pleasure. 

He can feel his straining muscles beginning to go lax, hears his breathing start to even out, and when Dean whispers into his ear, “That’s it, Cas. Just like that, sweetheart. Stay nice and loose for me and I swear I’m gonna make you feel so, so good,” he knows he’s ready.

He bites down on his lower lip and oh-so-carefully gives a tiny, inconsequential roll of his hips. Dean’s breath hitches just from that and Dean pushes back into him, filling the microscopic space that was empty only a second ago, and a strangled sound of pleasure is torn from Castiel’s lips. 

“Good?” Dean checks needlessly.

Castiel nods anyway. “Y-yeah.” It comes out shakier than he meant it to, so he adds, “You can—I want to feel you move.”

His nerve endings light up with pleasure when Dean relents and gives him his first shallow thrust, and _ god, _ feeling that fat, hard length moving inside of him is absolutely breathtaking. With each thrust, Dean withdraws a little more and rocks himself back inside, and Castiel makes sure he releases every shocked sound of encouragement that wants to come out. At first it’s because he knows how important it is to Dean that he enjoys himself, but as it becomes more and more clear that his reassurance only feeds into Dean’s confidence—making Dean’s movements more sure, more steady, and much more _ pleasurable— _he keeps it up for himself, too. 

Dean gradually builds momentum, falling into a steady, satisfying rhythm interspersed with deep kisses and travelling hands. Before long, Dean’s fucking him in earnest, carefully, _ thoroughly, _ experimentally changing the pace and the depth of every stroke until one slight adjustment has the breath pushed out of him all at once as Dean connects with his prostate like a bulls-eye. Obviously having found what he was looking for, Dean keeps the bowl of his hips pressed snugly to his ass, grinding his cockhead relentlessly into his prostate and tearing a myriad of indistinguishable sounds from his throat. 

“God, Cas,” Dean says shakily. “You’re doin’ so good. Feel unbelievable.”

Pleasure keeps crashing into him, rolling up and over his body like waves each and every time Dean joins their bodies together. He’s lost in it already, a slave to the erotic in and out, the carnal push and pull, the sinful back and forth of their bodies moving together as one, as connected as any two people can be. 

He whimpers, his heart so full it actually aches, and seals his lips to Dean’s. He whimpers again when Dean’s long fingers brush through his hair, so, _ so _ completely in love with this amazing man for being so gentle and loving at the same time he’s making his body feel more pleasure than he’s ever experienced. Dean’s been so good to him, so kind and understanding, never once pushing, asking, or even hinting at them taking things all the way until Castiel brought it up himself. 

And now here they are, experiencing love making together for the first of what he knows will be many, many times, because he _ loves _ this. He loves feeling Dean moving inside of him, hearing his breath catch and his name on Dean’s lips, feeling the muscles on Dean’s broad back rolling and flexing as Dean thrusts into him over and over. 

_ Oh, _ this is good. Low moans curl up all the way from deep in his gut every time Dean’s cock fills him up. This is so, so good. Every intimate stretch of Dean’s thick cock spearing into him completes him in an erotic, almost visceral way that feeds his very soul. He wraps his legs around Dean’s waist and his arms around his neck, wanting him closer still. Dean gets his hands under each of his thighs, repositioning himself between them for more momentum, and the next time Dean snaps his hips forward, Castiel’s cock slides along Dean’s stomach. 

He pushes up into it as a groan is torn from his throat, additional, _ acute _ pleasure making him wild for even more as he rubs his cock against Dean’s soft skin. Any restraint he was clinging to because of his inexperience shatters, and he rocks back against Dean’s next thrust, his moans gaining volume as they meet in the middle again and again, slowly building into a faster pace that has Dean’s cock reaching places inside of him nobody’s ever been. 

It makes him want more still, makes him want Dean to show him exactly how good it can be when Dean stops being so careful, when Dean chases _ his _ pleasure instead of trying to hand it to Castiel. 

He breaks the seal of their lips only to demand, “Harder.” Dean’s breath shudders out as he connects more forcefully, the latest thrust making his toes curl with pleasure. _ “Yes,” _ he croaks, rocking back into him. 

Dean does it again and again, their skin slapping together over and over as Castiel’s cock is pushed against Dean’s belly with every thrust. The delicious, relentless, deliberate pressure on his prostate from Dean’s deeper thrusts has shooting stars filling his vision, and he’s not even aware of the way he’s clawing at Dean’s back until he hears a sharp hiss of pain and starts to pull his hands away. 

“Don’t—don’t stop,” Dean begs him, and because Dean sounds like he’s enjoying it, he keeps his hands right where they are while Dean sucks hard just beneath his ear. 

The pleasure is bubbling up rapidly now, building and building as Dean keeps nailing his sweet spot with perfect precision and mind-numbing execution. He hears high-pitched, needy little sounds escaping him with every one, and _ god, _he feels so fucking good, so much better than good that he can hear himself whimpering pathetically and he doesn’t even care. 

“Fuck—You’re so fucking perfect and all m—” Dean stops, growls, swallows down whatever he was going to say. “You good, Cas? You feel good?”

“So good,” Castiel pants. “I’m getting close.”

Dean groans, surprises him with a sharper thrust with more power behind it, and he calls out as pleasure shoots through him like lightning. “Again!” Dean pounds into him, driving him closer and closer, goading Castiel with strong hands on his ass to match his faster pace. Pleasure spikes, sharp and darkly alluring. _ “Oh god.” _

He always thought making love had to be soft and slow, but he didn’t know how wrong he was until now. Because this is getting harder and faster. There’s almost a wild, raw edge to the way their hips come together with a _ thud _ again and again, the jarring influx of pleasure reminding him of the way it was that first time between them, and it’s still without a doubt the most loved he’s ever felt.

How could he feel anything _ but _loved with the way Dean is gazing down at him as if he’s the only thing that exists? The only thing that matters. The only thing he’ll ever need. The only man he’ll ever love. Castiel wants so desperately to be all of that for him, is ready and willing to be Dean’s for the taking. 

“Cas,” Dean moans. “Cas, I’m—can I—_ fuck,” _Dean bites out. “I’m gonna come, sweetheart. Should I pull out?”

Heat tears through his chest and shoots between his legs at the thought of the alternative, at the idea of Dean emptying himself inside of him, painting his insides all hot and sticky and unequivocally because of him, because of the pleasure Dean found in _ his _ body for the first time. 

“Come inside of me,” he says, his voice rocky and hoarse. “The—the first time.” He feels Dean’s teeth scrape on his skin and has an epiphany about why Dean’s so into the idea. “Be the first person—the _ only _ person.”

_ “C-Cas,” _Dean says again, but he knows it’s a warning this time and the flame catches deep inside of him because of it, spreading faster and further with every powerful thrust. 

“Do it. Make me yours, Dean,” he urges him. 

It’s barely even audible, but he _ just _ hears a quiet, “Mine,” sneak out on a heavy breath of Dean’s. 

A delicious shiver climbs up his spine as Dean pounds into him harder, faster. “Yours,” he says, completely shameless with it. “I’m yours, Dean. All yours. Only yours. Take me. _ Claim me. _ God, I want you to. I’ve always wanted you to,” he says desperately. “I waited for you. For this, _ please.” _

“I—I love you,” Dean shudders, “I’m—fuck, _ shit— _ ” Dean’s whole body goes stiff as a board, Castiel’s cock nudges his stomach, now pulled tight and— “I’m coming, _ aauuugh!” _

Dean goes rigid again, his cock swelling impossibly bigger inside of him, making Castiel wince as the added girth stretches him even wider for just a moment, and then it’s eclipsed by insurmountable _ joy _as he feels the proof of Dean’s pleasure emptying inside of him. The first few in-and-out thrusts have Dean’s cum slipping and sliding out of him, creating a warm, deliciously slick mess he rocks his hips into, making his face burn but his eyes roll back into his head when he finds additional pleasure in the act. 

_ “Mine.” _

And that’s it. Dean’s low, broken voice, combined with the knowledge that Dean is buried to the hilt and _ coming inside of him, _ sends him spiraling. He shouts with surprise as he’s suddenly, _ explosively _ coming between them, pushed so fast and so hard to the edge that his vision whites out as he dissolves into nothing but exquisite, on-going pleasure as he streaks their skin with his release. 

He feels hot, wet ribbons of Dean’s cum sneak out of him for short, gratifying seconds before Dean’s fingers are squeezing Castiel’s ass so hard it borders on painful for just a moment before Dean releases him and clumsily unwinds Castiel’s arms from his neck. Castiel’s gone boneless, has lost complete control of his extremities, so he goes with it when his hands are pressed into the mattress on either side of his head. A lazy smile blooms on his face when Dean’s fingers slide between his as he continues to work himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm, whispering, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” non-stop until he finally stills, kisses his cheek, and collapses on top of him. 

He has an intense need to wrap his arms around Dean, to hold him close and tell him a million times over that he’s everything he’s ever dreamed of, that _ this, _his first time, was so much better than he could have imagined, but he’s so drained all he can do is squeeze his hands as the tears start to well up and drip down his cheeks. 

He knows as soon as Dean feels one fall onto his face, because he lifts his head with alarm written all over his face. “What’s wrong?”

Castiel shakes his head, smiling while he tries to find his voice so Dean doesn’t panic any longer than he already has. “Nothing.”

And he’s not only thinking about having toe-curling sex for the first time on his 30th birthday, he’s also thinking of getting engaged and finding his soulmate and getting to live out the kind of love story everybody secretly wishes for and so very few people actually find. “Not a single thing. That was—_you are—_perfect.” 

Dean hits him with a patented Dean Winchester smile, the one that will make his heart skip a beat every time he sees it for as long as he lives. “Not as perfect as you, sweetheart.”

And once again, Castiel finds himself thinking he never knew he could be so happy. 

When they wake up the next morning and indulge themselves in a second and third time before they ever make it out of bed, they have no idea that Dean’s missing a phone call from the people at the Ellen DeGeneres show. They don’t know they’ll both be on stage with Ellen herself in less than a week talking about the video from Dean’s proposal that went viral, and they’re completely oblivious to the fact that John Legend will top the charts with “I Could Spend Forever,” by the time December rolls around, beating his track sales for “All Of Me,” with 4.87 million copies sold in its first calendar year. They have no idea that Dean will be able to kiss his basement apartment goodbye and buy Cas his dream house with his earnings before he turns 31, but none of that matters right now.

Because they’re together.

They hear each other singing every day, they have smiles on their faces, love in their hearts, and they’re happier than either of them ever thought they could be.

And they stay that way for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed the level of angst in this story, two other fics I've written you might also like are [Forever The Name On My Lips](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844827/chapters/42109001) (fair warning, it’s an Omega!Verse story) and [Back to December](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12332913/chapters/30928695). Both with happy endings! 
> 
> Lastly, if you liked this story as much as I liked writing it, please don't forget to **hit that kudos** button!


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